Fate: Hunter's Moon
by kyugan
Summary: Since ancient times, people have used Sacred Chalices to reveal the Tombs of The Gods so that they may enter into communion and gain true Insight. However, not all gods are benevolent, and if left unchecked may bring about the end of days. Tainted & corrupt, the Holy Grail of Fuyuki City awaits it's chance to give life to All The Evil's of The World. And so, The Hunt Begins anew...
1. Chapter 1: And thus the Hunt begins Anew

A little something I came up with after playing Fromsoft's latest brainchild. Be warned, updates will be slow coming and it most likely won't be as long as my other fics. Also, those who have yet to see/play Bloodborne, be warned, spoilers ahead.

That being said, I own neither the rights to Fate/Zero or anything produced by Fromsoftware.

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Waking Nightmare.**

Uryuu Ryuunosuke was a seriously disturbed human being, to the point it was even questionable if he qualified as a human being to begin with.

From the moment he was born there was something off about the young man, something not quite right in that seemingly empty head of red hair. It manifested itself in strange ways, like how he one day took it upon himself to count the gravel in the park as a child, only getting discouraged after reaching ten-thousand, and even then his mother had to drag him away.

However, other than the odd moment, which his parents would quickly hush up, there was little about him that implied he was anything other than a slightly odd boy with unusual tastes.

For example, unlike most boys his age, Ryuunosuke absolutely detested Movies, more accurately he detested any from the Horror, Thriller, Splatter or War genres. When asked to explain himself, a rarity in and of itself, he admitted that while he could understand the necessity for them, he failed to see the appeal in trying to minimise one's fear of death. Death, according to Ryuunosuke, was something that couldn't be experienced while alive, and thus impossible to understand.

In other words, it was something one cannot experience on any sort of entertainment medium.

As a result, Ryuunosuke had become highly desensitized to 'Death' as a subject, and could sit through hours of gruesome practical effects, bloody make-up & corn-syrup stained bodies, without batting an eye. While this might have been deemed impressive by anyone else, an unfortunate side-effect of this desensitization was that, in order to answer his earnest curiosity behind the 'Nature' of 'Death', he'd become a homicidal maniac.

Now it should be noted that, with all that said, Ryuunosuke was not, clinically speaking, insane. He didn't name his favorite knife, and indeed considered the concept highly silly. He didn't favour any one way of killing his victims, instead choosing to experiment with different methods from time to time.

No, despite any claims to the contrary, Ryuunosuke retained full possession of all his mental faculties. Indeed, many of his female victims had admitted they'd been attracted by his dignified, enigmatic posture. The problem was that the aforementioned Mental Faculties were inherently simpler than normal to the point he truly believed he was doing the world a solid.

His first victim had been his own sister. It was nothing so juvenile as jealousy or hatred that had driven him to extinguish her life, such things would require he feel something, anything for her at all. She had simply been there and he had wanted to know how she'd look when she died compared to when she lived, burning the image into his mind once the deed was done. Such was the case of all his other victims, typically women & children; he'd never once felt anything for or against them in particular, they'd simply been in the right place at the right time.

However, as with most 'Artists', after a period of success & emotional highs, and at least thirty corpses, Ryuunosuke began to experience a serious loss in motivation. No matter what he attempted, he just couldn't get the same level of satisfaction, the same 'fresh' feeling, not even when he dragged his victims' deaths out for at least half a day.

Thus it was with a morose heart that Ryuunosuke returned home after five years, or more accurately, perhaps it would be better to say he returned to the place of his rebirth, for rather than greeting his parents at the front door like a normal person, he'd waited for them to fall asleep before breaking into the crumbling, abandoned storehouse in the backyard where he'd stashed his sister's corpse.

It did his heart some good to find her waiting for him after five long years, though sadly it hadn't done anything to reignite his creativity. Just as he was considering leaving, however, his eyes landed on a rotten old book atop the mountain of junk he'd buried her in.

Now while Ryuunosuke had occasionally tapped into old Chinese tomes during his time as a University Student, he wasn't what you'd call an expert. Still, even he could tell at a glance that the book, more of a collection of notes rather, was pretty damn old, evidenced in part by its worm-eaten pages and the postscript that dated it back to the 9th year of the Keio area, some hundred years prior, during the Bakumatsu.

Intrigued, as he never thought his family would possess something so rare, he'd decided to flip through it and was instantly blown away by the preposterous nonsense contained within, detailing western dark magic, ranging from human sacrifices to the summoning of otherworldly demons.

Naturally, Ryuunosuke didn't put much truck behind such things, indeed, he was prepared to brush the whole thing off as a joke one of his ancestors had come up with to show off his balls, for if memory served, possessing such western literature would bring naught but shame. Still, while he doubted its authenticity, he couldn't deny he admired the cojones of his ancestor for keeping such a text, so much so that he felt a bout of inspiration coming on.

Following the instructions detailed in the book as faithfully as possible, Ryuunosuke set about attempting to summon a demon, using his victim's blood to draw out the Magic Circle, only to fail three times due to mistakes that lead him to wasting the blood before the ritual could be completed.

Realizing that his reason for failure lay in his lack of resources, he decided to forgo his usual methods of targeting people on the street and instead broke into the home of a family of four, casually butchering the three oldest members, leaving only the youngest son alive, the little tyke looking on in horror as his parents' murderer put the finishing touches to his ritual.

"Fill, fill, fill er' up…fill…" Ryuunosuke hummed, ignoring the noise of the television in the corner as he used his bloody toe to finish drawing the summoning circle. Impractical, maybe, but then he'd never been the type to plan ahead, and while he'd lucked out by finding a bucket to hold the blood, a paintbrush had been another story "Repeat four times…or was it five?" he muttered, glancing at the tome "And then I have to destroy it every time it's filled…"

While it wasn't in Ryunosuke's nature to pay so much attention to detail, at least to something that had little to do with death, his latest past-time required a decidedly more serious atmosphere than he was used to. Still, it did fit the mood, and for all he knew that was just as important as ensuring the sigils were drawn the right way.

Not that he could have possible failed mind you. Not after practicing so many times, something made possible only by the generous donation of the house's elder residents blood.

'Maybe four was too many…' he mused, eyeing the reserves that were stored in the bucket uncertainly. Ryuunosuke was typically very particular about disposing of his victims' bodies, which was one of the reasons he typically only killed one at a time. Killing a family of four in their own home was certain to make things very difficult in Fuyuki for the foreseeable future. 'Oh well…' he mused, shrugging dismissively as he counted off the repetitions on his finger with a smile "Okay that's five times." He noted, turning his attention to the television, where a report on one of his earlier failed attempts was being broadcast "Do you think I went a little too far?" he wondered aloud, leaning on the couch and smiling at the family patriarch, whose head promptly fell to the floor with a sickening thud, right before the eyes of his horrified son.

"Hey kiddo," Ryuunosuke called out, switching off the television, casting the already darkened living room into complete darkness "Tell me, do you believe in terrible demons?"

The boy gaped at him as if her were insane, which as had been firmly established was sadly not the case. Still, it was rather stupid of Ryuunosuke to expect the kid to answer through the gag he'd placed on him. Then again, he'd always had a soft spot for kids, it was okay for them to get so scared they pissed themselves, as opposed to adults, which frankly even he found pathetic.

"I only ask because all the Newspapers & Magazines are calling me a 'Terrible Demon'," he elaborated, approaching his trembling captive at a sedate pace, it wasn't as if he was going anywhere "but supposing Demons like that truly existed in the world, wouldn't that be rude to them? You really gotta be clear about this kinda stuff."

With that said, he crouched down in front of the kid, a cheerful grin adorning his face as he looked into those terrified ochre eyes "Hey there! My name's Uryuu Ryuunosuke and I'm a Demon!" he greeted, only to sigh at the look in the boy's eyes "Yeah, I'm not sure if that's the right way to go about it either…" he admitted, his good mood faltering somewhat, until he held up the manuscript for the kid to see "Old huh? Yeah, I found this old book in our old storehouse. Seems some of my Ancestors were doing research into summoning demons, which made me wanna find out if they actually exist."

If the boy wasn't gagged and completely scared out of his mind it was likely he could have confirmed the existence of demons for his captor. After all, there was one right in front of him.

"But you know," Ryuunosuke continued as he got to his feet "If a Demon really does appear, it'd be pretty stupid of me to just chat with it for a while before sending it back to whatever pit of hell it came from without giving it something…right?" he sat down on a nearby chair, leaning on the back as he held a hand up to his face, as if asking a favour "So with that said, if a demon does show up…ya think you could let it kill ya, kiddo?"

The boy reacted as anyone in such a situation would to such a question, by redoubling his futile struggles to escape, tears, screams and the stench of urine filling the air as Ryuunosuke threw his head back and laughed, the sound a twisted mockery of a child's.

"Man, I wonder what it feels like to be killed by a demon?" he marveled, rocking back and forward on his chair "Not a lot of people can claim to have seen that!"

The boy did not listen, in truth, he cared little what the monster in human skin had to say, all that mattered was that he needed to escape, to put as much distance between him and the monster that killed his family, his eyes shutting tight as he tried to block out the insane laughter, urging himself to wake up from this terrible dream, only to grimace as something burned the back of his hand, his eyes snapping open as a whirlwind formed in the center of the bloody circle the monster had drawn on the floor in his family's blood, which had begun to glow ominously while, somewhere in the distance, the boy heard the sound of a bell chiming.

* * *

 _Play: Hunter's Dream..._

Mist gently twirled through the air, giving it a cloudy quality that only grew thicker the closer it got to the ground, rendering it indistinct unless one looked straight down. However, the odds of anyone such an interest in the firmament was unlikely, given the ominous sight of the small, hilltop church, overlooking a sizeable graveyard, countless headstones lining the outer walls, the field itself filled with haunting white flowers that seemed to reach out for the moon overhead.

Some, more like as not those troubled souls with more regrets than hoys, may see it as a comforting place, offering them a brief respite from whatever transient, passing dreams had led them there from the waking world. Still others might consider such a place eerie, haunting even, and would hurriedly search for the nearest exit for fear of being punished for their trespassing.

And indeed, trespassing they would be, were the residents of this space the sort to turn away guests after so long without so much as a whisper on the wind, the morose silence of the mist and the pale moonlight only adding to the lonesome air.

Abruptly, the silence was shattered, not with a roar, but with a soft, almost hesitant jingle, as soft as an infant's breath, yet as clear as a bugle's call. Though no wind blew in this timeless place, the beckoning chime of a bell parted the fog like a knife, alerting the denizens of the hill to its call.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, small figures emerged from mist, their malformed heads and skeletal frames belying the intensity of their reverence, their excitement palpable as they began chattering amongst themselves in their own tongue until one of the side doors to the Chapel swung open, causing them to fall into reverent silence.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, a figure clad in a plain hood and dress emerge, carrying in her arms a cloth bundle, too large to be a baby, a pair of silver eyes gazing heavenwards, the moonlight shining off a porcelain face and hair as bright as silver framed by a simple plain bonnet.

"The Bell Beckons…" she noted, her tone soft, torn between surprise and confusion, both pleased and troubled by this latest occurrence, for on the one hand, while it was good that there remained people who knew enough to seek their aide, the fact remained that in order to seek that aide, there would have to be a great need. A need, it should be noted, that should have been done away with some time ago "Could a new hunt have begun?"

As if in response to her words, the bundle in her arm stirred, four long tentacles reaching up to stroke her face, the porcelain figure glancing down, her features softening somehow as she held a segmented hand to her cheek.

"Indeed…ours is not to question why…" the plain figure agreed, turning her head to the side as the fountain to her right bubbled, several malformed figures emerging from beneath the moonlit waters, one of them holding out a fragile bell, faded with age, yet seeming to glow in response to the distant chimes of its brother "There is work to be done…Good Hunter."

Taking the bell from the fountain dweller, she held it over the bundle, surrendering the relic to the tendrils that rose from the bundle as she set it on a nearby table, stepping back calmly as the bundle gave the bell a simple shake, the soft sound resonating through the air before both vanished in a flash.

* * *

 _Play: Fate/Zero Main Theme..._

Ryuunosuke blinked, the would-be summoner staring at the bloody, freshly-drawn Magic Circle in amazement as it began to glow. While he had to admit he'd been hoping for some sort of reaction after all the trouble he'd gone through, after all, it'd kind of suck that he killed all those people for nothing, right? Still, he honestly hadn't anticipated anything like this, and while watching the mini tornado trash the room was kinda cool, he couldn't help but feel let down that actually Summoning a Demon from hell looked no more impressive than the special effects budget for a cheesy horror movie.

Still, the very fact that it WASN'T a movie, that the sight before him was actually happening, gave the teen hope, his eyes widening in anticipation, his heart dancing in his chest as he prepared to greet the unknown for the first time since he'd grown bored with the concept of mere 'murder', ignoring the gasps of his offering, the poor boy's eyes watering as he felt something within his body heat up unbearably, a strange energy coursing through his small frame, filling his veins with fire even as his muscles tightened like iron chords.

Predictably, there was another flash of light, followed by a crack of thunder, the impact shaking the house while Ryuunosuke felt his hair stand on end from the sudden discharge, not unlike the time he'd get stung by the static from a thick carpet, the murderer looking on with gleeful anticipation as the wind died down, the soft chiming of a bell filling the air as a figure appeared in the enveloping haze, a tall, imposing figure that, for the briefest of moments, seemed to have no definite shape, only for the smoke to clear, taking with it most of Ryuunosuke's expectations.

'Is this it?' he wondered, staring at the figure before him, his disappointment palpable at the utter lack of originality 'I mean, he doesn't even have goat's feet or horns!'

True enough, the figure before him was entirely human shaped, although to be fair, there was no guarantee it was actually human considering he couldn't make out any defining features thanks to the thick leather duster coat, boots and gloves that adorned it's frame, though the fact the gloves ended in fingers implied at the very least it had human-like hands.

'Unless the gloves are just there to distract you and it actually had tentacles or claws hidden inside' he deduced, shivering in anticipation as he looked the figure over, noting with interest that it's face was hidden behind a thick leather collar and hat that kinda reminded him of that one werewolf movie he watched back in college.

The figure stirred, like a stature coming to life, raising its gloved hands to its face, clenching and unclenching the fingers, as if seeing them for the first time, causing the leather in the gloves to creak ominously in the darkened room before lowering them, a shiver of apprehension racing down Ryuunosuke's spine as he somehow knew the thing was looking at him.

"Uh, hi there." He greeted, scratching the back of his head awkwardly as the feeling of being stared at intensified at the sound of his voice "Nice to meet you, name's Uryuu Ryuunosuke. I'm a freelancer and my hobbies include Murder in general, preferably kids and young women though anyone will do really since I started going back to the basics again."

If the tall figure gave any indication it heard the murderer, it certainly didn't show it, though Ryuunosuke swore he felt a chill at the use of the word murderer, one that had only grown worse at the mention of his preferred targets.

"Uh, look, sorry to just come right out and say this, but are you actually a demon?" he asked, holding up the Grimoire he swiped from his family's storehouse "See, I found this book on summoning Devils and figured I'd ask for some pointers," he gestured to the room "Took me a while but I eventually pulled it off, even managed to save you a snack!"

He gestured to the kid, whose panicked cries intensified as the tall figure turned to look at him, tears streaming from his cheeks as he tried to crawl away despite the bindings effectively holding him down, the tall figure regarding the struggling youth silently for a moment before walking slowly towards the boy.

No, not walked, prowled, the soft footfalls of those thick leather boots sending shivers of anticipation up Ryuunosuke's spine, the murder looking on intently as the leather-clad figure advanced on his target, silent yet unstoppable, the murder noting that it seemed to be carrying a strange wooden pole across it's back.

Meanwhile the boy, as if realizing that any further resistance was useless, that his death was inevitable, simply closed his eyes and waited for the end to come. And come it did, but not in the manner Ryuunosuke was expecting, the aspiring murderer's anticipation reaching a fever pitch as the 'Demon' knelt beside the boy only to blink in confusion, a sentiment no doubt shared by the boy as it began undoing the bonds holding the kid down.

"Uh…Demon-san…?" Ryuunosuke called out hesitantly only to be ignored as the tall figure helped the boy sit up, one gloved hand resting on his shoulder as it apparently checked him over for wounds, only to ruffle his hair encouragingly "Aren't you going to eat him?"

Again the figure ignored him, instead choosing to scoop the trembling child into its arms, rising to its impressive height with the child clinging to its neck for dear life as it slowly turned on its heel and made for the door to the hallway.

"Um…excuse me…" Ryuunosuke called out, honestly more let-down than annoyed by the turn of events if he was honest with himself. After all, the being before him was a Demon from hell, who was to say they'd act the same way described in the various religious texts he'd been exposed to? For all he knew the Demon could be fond of children and simply wanted to play. On the other hand, that fondness could be decidedly more malicious and the intended play area probably involved a bedroom.

Not that Ryuunosuke cared mind you. Everyone had their own hobbies, and besides, it wouldn't make sense to hold a Demon up to the same levels of standards of humanity, especially since Ryuunosuke himself wasn't the perfect example of the term.

That being said, if the Demon wasn't going to kill the kid, then the least he could do is let Ryuunosuke finish him off. Not that he cared if the kid lived and exposed his identity to the world, while it would be a bummer to be dragged off by some old guy on a bicycle, it wasn't as if they'd make a kid testify and he'd been careful not to leave his fingerprints on anything.

No, it was for completely altruistic reasons that Ryuunosuke wanted the kid dead. After all, he had just murdered the kids entire family, so it wouldn't be fair, to both them and the kid, if he just let the little tyke go, the mental trauma alone could fuck him up.

That, and he really hated leaving a job unfinished. One of the reasons he hadn't given up after the first few failures at summoning, other than his honest curiosity, was that when it came to his hobby he liked to see things through to the end.

Besides, if this thing truly was a Demon, then it had to obey his orders as per the terms dictated by their contract, as listed in the book. While Ryuunosuke wasn't the kind of dick who'd use force to get people to do what he wanted, at the very least he could get the thing to listen to him.

"Hey, hold up…" he called out, not sternly admittedly, but then he figured it was better to be safe than sorry, one hand reaching out to grab the leather-clad Demon's shoulder. The next instant he was sent flying across the room, his eyes widening in shock as he gaped at the bundle of heavy ropes, no, the mass of massive tentacles that were burrowing into his guts, having seemingly erupted like a pack of snakes from the Demon's extended forearm as it turned to face him.

A part of him dimly noted the the kid trembling in the Demon's other arm, face buried in the shirt beneath the leather duster in terror. Personally, Ryuunosuke thought the whole thing was rather cool, in that detached manner one does as everything slows down around them and their life begins to flash before their eyes, the aspiring murderer's hand coming up to touch the growing crimson stain on his shirt where the largest tentacle had pierced right through his guts, a smile adorning his lips as he marveled at the pure, captivating red, that glistening, vivid, fundamental color that had driven him to end so many lives in search of, finally resting in his hands.

"I see…" he murmured, blood dripping from his lips as the tentacles vanished back to the ether from whence they came, allowing his broken body to collapse in a bloody heap, the murderer running his fingers almost lovingly through the bloody mess that at one point had been his own intestines "It's like the old saying goes: The darkest place is under the candlestick…"

* * *

Play: Bloodborne Main Theme...

Silence, broken only by the panicked sobs of the child, filled the room as his would be summoner passed away, his strange, almost wistful smile a subtle mockery to his killer, as if by killing him, they had finally given him what he'd always wanted.

But such thoughts were for another time. Right now, there was a child to comfort, a child whose pleas for safety, whose desire to escape this waking nightmare, had somehow managed to reach across the cosmos, across time and space itself, and penetrate the veil of The Dream to bring him here.

Of course it wasn't as if the child had done so alone. Even if he'd possessed Gehrman's old bell, it would not have been enough to penetrate the dream, not after the Moon Presence had fallen, not since mastery of the dream had changed hands in order to bring an end to the Plague of Beasts.

No, in order for the pleas of the child to have reached him, to have drawn his attention within the sanctity of The Dream, he would have needed an object of considerable arcane might, and it just so happened that such a device existed in this world, a chalice, a cup of the heavens that promised a single wish to the one to lay claim to it…or so it would like the participants to believe.

One did not ascend to the position of 'Great One' without gaining some insight into the true nature of the world, but even without his eyes on the inside, he was certain he'd have been doubtful of an Omnipotent Wish Granting Device even if it weren't being overseen by people with morals more questionable than the Choir, never mind the fact it had clearly been tainted by a blight not unlike the Plague of Beasts.

No, he would have nothing to do with this Cursed Chalice, not after witnessing the Hell that the unwitting Scholars of Byrgenwerth had unleashed when they uncovered the one later used to enter into communion with Ebrietas. Besides, what need had he of a wish? Even if he hadn't ascended above his mortal frame, did he not retain control of The Dream? What could a false chalice fashioned my man to reclaim their lost glories possibly offer one who had ascended past the stars and the boundaries of time itself?

Then again, it wasn't as if the true purpose of the ritual actually involved granting a wish, it was simply the means by which the Heroes could be summoned, not so much the beckoning chime of a bell as dangling a carrot from a stick and leading the horse to slaughter. All to reclaim something that had been lost due to the inherent stupidity of man.

It would seem that, regardless of time or space, Occult Scholars, or Magi as they seemed to refer to themselves here, and the agents of the Church continued to make mysterious bedfellows, though to give the Church credit, they only got involved to keep things from getting too out of hand.

And if you believed that for even a second, he had an entire city to sell you.

A sigh drew his attention to the figure held in his free arm, his features softening as he glanced down at the fiery red hair of the boy who had called to him, his face buried deep in his shirt, now stained wet with tears, his features slack, having apparently lost consciousness from the shock, the tangy scent of blood in the air tainted by the smell of urine emanating from his trousers.

It was only understandable really, from what he had surmised the corpse in the corner had apparently, for no reason other than curiosity, murdered the boys entire family right in front of him for the sole purpose of ensuring he had enough blood to summon a 'demon'.

'In the end, it always comes back to Blood.' He muttered, eyeing the circle on the floor with distaste.

Now, the man who killed his family had been slain by the 'Demon' he'd summoned not moments before & offered his tender flesh as a morsel.

In the end, it truly did always come back to Blood, and so he could hardly blame the boy for being terrified for his life. Indeed, he'd have questioned his sanity if he wasn't. But while it was true he'd killed more than his fair share of people in his time, some of them former comrades, others in clear self-defense, there was no reason for him to turn his fangs on one so young.

That being said, he could not leave the boy here. For one thing, by the laws of this farce of a ritual, he was a designated 'Master' despite his age, meaning he wouldn't be safe even if he was entrusted to the proper authorities.

For another, his negligence was already responsible for the deaths of two children, and he would be damned before he failed this boy as he had Gascoigne's daughters.

There was but one place he could take the boy where he was absolutely certain he would be safe. One impregnable fortress, cut off, yet still connected to the Dreaming World, where he could ensure his safety from the likes of Assassin and the machinations of the other Masters. One place where he can be absolutely certain the boy will be well cared for.

And so he knelt, surrounded once again by the scent of death and blood that had once tainted his dreams, his master clutched tight to his chest as he drew upon the hanging sigil in his mind, the world around him seeming to lose focus before vanishing into dust and fog, the bloodstained walls replaced by cool night air and gentle mists as he found himself once more in The Dream.

"Welcome Home, Good Hunter." The Doll called out, ever present, ever welcoming, her porcelain features, immovable as they were, somehow managing to convey the impression of a welcoming smile as she stood at the foot of the steps of the workshop, though it soon gave way to intrigue at the sight of the child "What is this?" she wondered, titling her head curiously to the side "Have you brought us a new Hunter?"

He did not answer, not verbally anyway, there was no need for such needless actions between them after he'd ascended The Hunt and laid claim to The Dream from the Moon Presence. The only reason she still persisted was because she knew the sound of her voice soothed him, as it had no doubt soothed Gehrman, back when the old man had been forced to host The Dream.

As it would no doubt sooth the mind of the child, having lost & witnessed so much within a single night due to the machinations of fools and the desires of a monster.

"Very well." She acknowledged, accepting the small figure from him, her deceptively delicate hands clutching him to her bosom almost instinctively, his head resting on her shoulder as she turned to climb the steps "I shall prepare a spot for him."

Offering a brief nod in response, he promptly turned on his heel, the world seeming to blur around him once more, the fog darkening gradually before giving way to a starry night, his eyes narrowing as he once again manifested within the Dreaming World, gazing out across the city below from atop the tallest structure.

At any other time, he would have marveled at the sight before him. An ocean of lights, as if the stars had been brought down from the heavens, extending as far as the human eye could see, broken only by several towering pillars of steel and glass that reached almost arrogantly for the sky.

As it were, however, he had no interest in the wonders of this world, not when he knew the truth that lay beneath the skin like a poisonous cancer sore. While he was loathe to compare himself to the Healing Church's fanatics, he could at least appreciate their dedication to preventing the spread of a plague, even if said 'preventative measures' involved killing off potential victims along with the infected.

There were six other Servants in this War. Each a legend made flesh, a Hero who had, in their own way, ascended their humanity to become something more. And backing these Legendary Heroes were their Masters, Magi who sought to lay claim to the heavenly cup, no doubt ignorant of the taint that had corrupted its very core for the past six decades, waiting for the chance to be unleashed on the world.

He would not allow that to happen. He would not allow a repeat of Yharnam, not permit another city to be devoured by forces beyond their mortal comprehension due to the actions of a delusional few who dared to presume to uncover the secrets of the universe. He would hunt down his fellow Servants, and bring an end to their hopeless dreams before they were broken by the truth, just as Gehrman had once intended for him.

A subtle shift in the air drew his attention to the docks, his eyes narrowing as he sensed the presence of a formidable foe, beckoning him not for aide, but for challenge.

Tonight, the residents of the Eastern City of Fuyuki would sleep easy, locked away safely behind closed doors and bolted windows. Tonight, those who would seek the Tainted Chalice o'er the corpses of the innocent & honourable would find themselves the target of a most deadly foe.

"Tonight…Servant Caster Joins The Hunt."

* * *

And that's as far as I'll go for now.

whether this one picks up or not, I leave to you guys.


	2. Chapter 2: A Cornered Beast

I own neither the rights to Fate/Zero or anything produced by FromSoftware except my licensed copies of their games & associated DLC.

Before we get started, I just want to clear things up about Servant Caster, namely his abilities and limitations thereof. While Caster/Moon-Scented Hunter can use all the 'Spells' available during the course of Bloodborne, he no longer needs to consume Quicksilver bullets to use them as he's become 'one with the cosmos'.

Also, for those who asked: Yes, while that attack that killed Ryuunosuke resembled 'Augur of Ebritas', he used his own Tentacles. Whether this means he killed Ebritas or not I leave entirely up to your imaginations.

On a related note: As a Servant, there is no 'Limit' to how many shots he can fire since his 'bullets' are actually composed of mana, though they do retain the property of the Quicksilver Bullets due to his nature as a Heroic Spirit. This is actually Canon, as explained by Servant Rider from Fate Extra's Wiki Page.

Now onto His Servant Statistics. While The Good Hunter DID ascend as a Great One, much like 'EMIYA' he was never 'thanked' for his acts. Even if he was, by Ascending he cast aside his human name, fading into obscurity as just another 'Moon-Scented Hunter'. As a 'Great One', he's closer in being to Arcueid, an existence normally beyond concepts like 'Death'.

As such, his Servant stats as a 'Heroic Spirit' will be much lower than they could have been if he'd received renown for his actions. The base stats for Caster Class Servants regardless of Spirit & Noble Phantasm, are as follows: (Strength: E) (Endurance: E) (Agility: C) (Mana: A) (Luck: B). The Class Skills for the Caster Class are as follows: (Territory Creation) & (Item Construction)

While this doesn't seem all that impressive compared to the likes of Arturia, Gilgamesh or Herakles, keep in mind that at Rank E a Servant is 10 times stronger than they were in life. Factor in the likely many augmentations the Hunter would have undergone thanks to The Doll, even with E-Rank strength he could probably hold his own against a Knight Class in the same way EMIYA could despite being, statistically, the weakest Servant in the 5th War even including Caster & both Assassins.

That being said, at the moment the only Stat I'm confident enough in to willingly outright confirm at this moment is Mana, which is ranked EX due to his status as a Great Old One. I won't go into his Personal Skills or Noble Phantasms just yet, but for Class Skills Caster can reproduce every item used in-game, including the upcoming 'Old Hunters' DLC, at his 'Workshop' so at the very least he has Rank A+ in Item Creation, possibly higher depending on the nature of the DLC items.

With that said, let us one again enter the Moonlit World...

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Fallen Dreamer.**

The broad bridge straddling the widening Mion River spans majestically over 665 meters, arching with a diameter of over three roads. The top of the arch is over 50 meters high, so anyone foolish, or daring enough to brave standing atop it would surely receive the full force of the ocean winds that frequented the area. It therefore stood to reason that a single misstep would lead to a decidedly fatal fall, either on the roads below or, potentially worse, the cold waters that waited even further down.

Only someone with a death wish, or supreme confidence in his ability, would dare to brave such a precarious perch, so it really should have come as no surprise to Waver Velvet that Rider would choose this, of all places, as his spot to spy on the upcoming duel between enemy servants. After all, as a Servant, the King of Conquerors possessed both traits in reckless abundance.

"Ri-de-r!" the English youth bleated, his teeth chattering like those wind-up toys from the cold and terrors as he clung to the the I-beam with both arms and legs, having forsworn what little dignity he'd managed to retain up until that point in favor of preserving what few years of his life remained after everything his insane Servant had put him through already "Get me down from here, now!"

"Nonsense boy!" the Redheaded giant countered, sitting with his legs crossed and a bottle of pilfered wine in hand "This place is perfect for a look-out, we wouldn't be able to see half as much if we went lower down." he took a swig from the bottle as he eyed the opposite shore "Besides, from the looks of things, we got here just in time."

Waver groaned, once again regretting his decision to enter this farce of a ritual for the umpteenth time as he dared take his eyes off his Servant long enough to glance at the source of his woes, namely the Fuyuki Harbor, where the telltale Prana Signature of a Servant was in full display. It was, quite obviously, a challenge, a declaration of intent from a Hero of a bygone age to any and all challengers with the testicular fortitude to take up arms against him.

Normally he'd expect Rider to pull a stunt like this, but given that his Servant was right in front of him, it stood to reason the Servant responsible for such a brazen challenge was one of the three Knight Classes, more than likely Lancer or Saber given what little he'd seen of Archer during his routing of Assassin, as neither Caster or Assassin would be so brazen and Berserker wouldn't have the wits.

A part of him was rather proud that his servant, rather than charging in headfirst as he seemed wont to do, had opted instead to observe him from a distance first, and indeed HAD been observing him well nigh on four hours now, having clearly recognized the challenge for what it was, and rightfully deducing that the other Servants wouldn't be able to ignore it for long.

'It's times like these that remind me why he's known as the King of Conquerors.' Waver noted, glancing at his overbearing Servant with grudging reverence, 'Only a complete idiot would answer such a challenge, knowing that everyone who didn't show up would be watching from the wings.'

Indeed, such was the nature of combat between Magi. No self respecting Magus would accept such a blatant challenge without first gathering as much Intel on their opponent as humanely possible, so as to best devise counter-stratagems for whatever they may bring to the table. It was one of the reasons Magi guarded their secrets with a zeal that bordered on religious, the slightest mistake could lead to their carefully constructed mysteries being dissected by parasites lurking in the wings.

A battle between Servants was no different. While a Servant's name was the key to their legend, it was not the only means by which a skilled Master could determine their identity, and by extension, their strengths and weaknesses. When facing another Servant in mortal combat, it was more than likely that at least one would reveal their Noble Phantasm in order to strike the finishing blow, which depending on the Phantasm would be akin to screaming their name from the rooftops.

As unlikely as it seemed, Waver was secretly hoping that a majority of the other Servants, excluding Rider, answered the challenge. Even if all of the parties involved walked away to fight another day, it would still give them better insight into their abilities, and if some poor soul should wind up being culled, well, that just meant there was one less obstacle between him and his wish.

However, as much as Waver wanted to praise his Servant's ingenuity, it paled in comparison to the overwhelming desire to throttle the giant for dragging him up onto this godforsaken bridge when he could've just as easily used their shared connection as Master & Servant to witness the fight through Rider's eyes, or the eyes of one of his familiars if Rider refused to put up with the momentary discomfiture, from the safety of his room at the McKenzie's.

Tactical advantage aside, even if Servants weren't physically superior to human beings in every possible way, if Rider fell from his seat all he'd have to do is revert to astral form to avoid a dunk in the ocean, and even if he didn't it was unlikely the fall could kill him. Hell, the big lummox would probably consider such a dip bracing.

By contrast, if Waver fell from his perch, something that was becoming alarmingly more imminent as the boys fingers, unused to such physical activity, slowly numbed from the biting cold, there probably wouldn't be enough of his body left to identify even if he did somehow manage to fall in the water.

"I wan't to go home..." he whimpered, hot, bitter tears lining his eyes as he cursed himself, his pride, and Kayneth Archibald El-Melloi for the umpteenth time since the night he summoned his Servant into this world "I wan't to go back to England!"

"All in good time." Rider mused, not even looking at his Master, instead inclining his stern chin towards the opposite shore with a sharp, bestial gleam in his eyes, like a lion that has spotted a particularly juicy gazelle "It would appear our brazen fisherman has caught a bite at last."

* * *

 _Fuyuki Harbour..._

The western shore of the Fuyuki seaside park consisted almost entirely of multiple rows of mundane storehouses, the kind used by companies, both legal and otherwise, to store their goods, equipment, and persons as the situation may call for. Combined with the wall provided by the harbor facilities, the looming shadows of unmanned derrick cranes and the dense fog which rendered the dim lighting of the street lights next to useless, and it was hard to imagine a more desolate, empty place to do battle.

It went without saying that Caster was far from impressed. As impressive and invaluable as it would have been to possess such clean light during the cold night of The Hunt, having braved the soot-stained cobblestones of Yharnam, traversed the desolate, beast-infested wilds of Hemwick, braved the haunted halls of Castle Cainhurst and trespassed into the very depths of the Chalice Dungeons, a wide open, well-lit space like this was an decidedly tame a place for a duel.

And indeed, it was clear that a Duel was what the Servant below desired, his stance, like a strung bow, belying the casual smile on his face, a stark contrast to the flaring waves of Prana emanating from his body like a beacon in the night. Such a forthright persona could only be ascribed to one of the three Knight Classes, and judging by the Twin Spears the warrior held at the ready, it was clear he had tracked down Servant Lancer.

Had Caster been an ordinary servant, he would never have dreamt of venturing this close to a Knight Class, the natural enemies of all Casters thanks to their innate Magic Resistance. But even had he not ascended as a Great One, he was, first and foremost, a Hunter, and as a Hunter it was second nature to stalk one's prey from the shadows.

It was for this reason that Caster had opted to temporarily abstain from eliminating the nearby Magus, almost certainly Lancer's Master, that had been lurking amateurishly in the wings, the Assassin perched atop the crane, or the other two humans that had snuck in not long ago and had taken up positions around the dock with an impressive level of stealth & coordination.

For one thing, there was no guarantee that Lancer would immediately vanish upon the Magus' death, and a cornered Servant was just as dangerous as any Beast, if not more so. For another, by allowing Lancer's Challenge to continue, the odds remained quite good that at least one other Servant would answer the call, be it out of misplaced pride, overwhelming blood-lust or their Master's inherent stupidity and desire to prove their mettle.

The fact the two humans were clearly intent on assassinating Lancer's Master was in itself a mixed blessing. Even if they chose to merely watch from the sidelines, it would still allow Caster to revise his stratagems accordingly based on their actions. And if they actually took the shot? Well that was just one less Master he had to worry about.

Sure enough, within a matter of moments, the sounds of approaching footsteps heralded the arrival of Lancer's opponent, Caster's eyes narrowing in the shadows provided by his hat as a woman of clearly unnatural beauty was escorted to the docks by what at first glance appeared to be an effeminate young man in an well-cut business suit, were it not for said escorts sheer magical presence, the tell-tale sign of a Servant, and another Knight Class unless Caster missed his guess.

"Welcome." Lancer greeted, honestly pleased to see them, his humble, cheerful voice carrying the faintest hint of an Irish brogue as he walked into the light "I have spent the entire day searching this city for a worthy foe, yet everyone just slinks away, hiding in their little holes." he smiled at the pair "Save for you, brave one, the only one of valor to answer by earnest invitation. Such pristine Valor...am I correct in thinking you are Servant Saber?"

"Indeed I am." the boy, no a young woman Caster corrected, confirmed, her expression taught as she stood before the unnatural woman, her Master most likely "And I presume you are Servant Lancer?"

Caster rolled his eyes at the pointless exchange, blocking out the rest of the conversation, his eyes locked on the slim frame of Saber as she surged her prana, her business suit replaced by an ankle-length blue battle dress with gold trim and lightweight silver armour inscribed with runes, similar and yet at the same time different from those he himself had mastered during the Night of The Hunt.

'Faerie Runes' he deduced, impressed by the intricacy of the markings, making a mental note to research them when he returned to The Dream to check on the boy, as it may prove useful in determining the 'Strongest Servant's' weakness.

His intrest piqued as a distortion appeared in Saber's hand, eyes narrowing as he watched what appeared to be a controlled maelstrom extend from her clenched fist, no, now that he looked closer it was clear she was holding something in her gauntlet, but the sheer speed and multitude layers of high preassure air prevented him from making out just what the Servant of the Sword's weapon could be.

He wasn't so ignorant as to believe it couldn't be anything other than 'A Sword'. After all, he had been summoned as a Caster, and yet the comforting weight of his weapons still hung from their respective harnesses. Beneath that curtain of air, the Servant could be weilding an Axe, a dagger or a club. Hell, for all anyone knew she could be wielding a salad fork, and that was assuming she wasn't only pretending to be Saber to dupe her opponent.

So he would normally have thought, were it not for the insight inherent to his very being. Just looking at either Knight's face was all he needed to determine they were not only strong-willed but resolute in their beliefs, the kind of warriors that would never willingly sacrifice their integrity regardless of the situation, even should they be disadvantaged. In short, they were stereotypical 'White Knights', preferring direct, fair confrontations that adhered to their codes of chivalry.

From this, he was able to discern three things: First of all, as a chivalrous Knight, most likely hailing from Europe by her accent and features, Saber's weapon of choice was most assuredly a Sword. Not only that, but judging by the lengths she went to conceal it's true form, the blade must be so famous that no-one who laid eyes upon it could mistake her true identity, one of the inherent weaknesses of a Servant.

While he had most likely never heard of it during his mortal life, as a Servant summoned by the Holy Grail Caster had access to all the inherent knowledge it afforded to other Servants regarding the Throne of Heroes. As such, even if had he been denied his Eyes on The Inside, it did not take a genius to combine 'Chivalrous Knight' and 'A sword No Warrior Can Fail to Identify' to come up with Saber's true identity just as easily as 'Magical Face', 'Celtic' and 'Twin Spears' had given him Lancer's.

Artur(ia) Pendragon, otherwise known as King Arthur, The Once-And-Future Proud King of Knights, heralded as the most beloved Hero King of Ancient Briton, and Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, otherwise known as Diarmuid of the Love Spot, the ill-fated First Warrior of the Knights of Fianna. While many skeptics questioned the validity of their existence, the tale of Diarmuid & Gráinne having supposedly inspired that of Tristan & Isolde, there was no denying their standing as heroic spirits.

Secondly, having discerned their true names, it was relatively easy for him to determine the identity of their Noble Phantasms. In the case of Diarmuid, while the Knight had been just as famous for his twin-swords, as a Lancer it was only natural he be summoned with The Twin Roses of Gae Buidhe and Gae Dearg. Likewise in the case of Arturia, while she was known to possess more than one sword in her life, only Excalibur was iconic enough that it should be hidden from all eyes.

And finally, having discerned their True Identities, Personalities and the nature of their Main Noble Phantasms, Caster was quite certain that, setting aside the asinine statistics that cropped up behind his eyeballs whenever he looked at either Knight for too long, these two were the absolute worst people to have been summoned as Servants for a Grail War.

While the times had changed from the days when two or more armies would face their opponents on the field of battle, most of those who ascended to the Throne of Heroes had only done so during the age when such a thing was common place. It was for this reason that so few Servants wielded anything more advanced than a flintlock pistol, as the discovery of gunpowder was the point when warfare began to change.

Indeed, make no mistake, the Heaven's Feel Ritual was indeed a War where only the last Master and Servant pair standing could lay claim to the prize, but due to the inherent treacherous, backstabbing nature of Magi, it was more akin to more modern conflicts, where subterfuge, deception and assassination played a much larger role than they had in those days of yore.

In other words, for the likes of Saber and Lancer, so honest and chivalrous that even suggesting deceiving their opponent outside of direct confrontation or the use of subversive activities to tilt the odds in their favor would likely result in them striking the person who suggested it, Master or not, it was the kind of war where they could expect to find themselves chewed up, their ideals spat upon, forced to betray everything they held dear or be slain and cast aside like pawns by their Masters.

Not that they wouldn't go down swinging mind you, not if the admirable exchange currently going on between them was any indication, but it was more likely than not this would be the only 'Honest Duel' in the Grail War. Sooner or later the machinations of the Magi would begin to taint the 'Sacred Battlefield', the Masters using their respective crafts to find the locations of their rivals and end them before they could impede their quest for the Cursed Chalice.

He'd almost be disgusted, were it not for the fact he'd been exposed to far worse in his life delving into the secrets The Church and The Choir had perverted after breaking away from Byrgenwerth. It was almost a poetic irony that, much like the Black Church Hunters, he intended to rid this world of the scourge presented by Avenger's Taint, but unlike those Zealots he would not rest until the source of the taint, this entire farce of a ritual, was rendered completely beyond restoration.

A burst of wind drew his attention back to the battlefield, his eyes narrowing as the Golden Radiance of Excalibur was temporarily exposed by the King of Knights dismissing her armor and sheath of air to propel herself towards her foe, an all-or-nothing gambit with the intent of circumventing the Knight of Fianna's guard to cleave him in two.

Had it been any other Lancer, it might have worked. Indeed, even if it had succeeded, Diarmuid would have likely sung her praises as his form returned to the ether and his memories merged with those of the TRUE Diarmuid residing in the Throne of Heroes. But Diarmuid of the Love Spot was not known as the First of Fianna for his pretty face, a fact he had no qualms reminding the King of Knights as he thrust the tip of the seemingly discarded Golden Rose between her emerald eyes.

Needless to say, it was testament to both Warrior's skills that both of them walked away from that encounter with little more than a scratch apiece. That being said, it was clear that Lancer was the victor of the exchange, for unlike Saber, his wounds were healed within seconds by his unimpressed Master, while the King of Knights had lost the use of her thumb, a crippling weakness for a swordsman of her calibre, due to the effect of Gae Buidhe's curse.

Had Caster been in her situation, bereft of insight and the benefits of cost-effective ranged attacks, he'd have never challenged the faster Knight to a contest of arms, especially not after learning the identity of his Noble Phantasms. Indeed, had he been the one to face Lancer, he'd have ensured the Knight of Fianna never got within striking distance, or even better, never saw him coming until he'd already ripped his innards out his back in a visceral shower of blood.

Even so, as much as he wanted to roll his eyes at the dramatics, he couldn't help but be impressed with Saber's fortitude, for despite both Knights having finally discerned their opponent's true identity, and with it, their respective Noble Phantasms, the King of Knights still stood ready to continue her duel with the Knight of Fianna, when all logic insisted she fall back.

'Eileen would have approved.' he noted, recalling the wizened old crow that had been as much a mentor to him in the Waking World as Old Gehrman had been in The Dream. The Hunter of Hunters had never let anything stand between her and her prey, not her wounds, not her advanced age and certainly not the strength of said prey. Indeed, Caster did not doubt for a moment that he had only defeated the Bloody Crow of Cainhurst was because Eileen had worn him down during their duel.

That being said, as much as he admired the old crow, in the end Eileen's stubbornness and refusal to partner up with another Hunter was the reason she'd met her end, bleeding out on the steps of the Grand Cathedral with no-one to mourn for her save a young dreamer who had likely seen more horrors in one night that no other Hunter save Gehrman himself had ever seen, nor would ever see again.

And so he watched what would likely be Saber's last stand, the King of Knights, clad once more in her armour for what little protection it might offer, and the Knight of Fianna, armed once more with both spears, bracing themselves for a second charge, their eyes meeting with looks of wary respect fora worthy opponent, only to halt a bolt of lightning shattered the ground between them, the ensuring thunderclap drowned out by the bellowing of Divine bulls and the battle cry of a Conqueror.

'So this is Rider...' he mused, torn between shock at the Servant's audacity as he commanded the combatants to sheathe their blades and wonder as he found himself impressed by the giant's sheer overwhelming presence, a stark contrast to the other Servants that began crawling out of the woodwork in response to said giant's brazen challenge, save for the Golden figure, whose divine aura actually caused him to quirk a brow 'As befitting the man hailed as the King of Conquerors.'

* * *

 _One Cluster-Fuck Later..._

In the end, things pretty much ended peacefully. Archer took offense to Saber and Rider claims of 'Kingship' and more than likely would have started something had Berserker not shown up, causing the golden servant to almost blew a gasket when the Black Knight had the audacity to not only survive his assault but counter-attacked with the Archer's own Noble Phantasms.

Before things could devolve any further, Archer's Master wisely decided to reign in his Servant, though anyone could tell from the look of Murder in those crimson eyes that there would be hell to pay in said Master's immediate future. No sooner had he left, however, did Berserker turn his attention to Saber, assaulting the crippled King of Knights with a ferocity that alarmed even her till Lancer stepped in to fend him off.

However, it seemed Diarmuid's new Master lacked even the honor of his first, caring little for the Knight of Fianna's pleas as he used a precious command seal to strip him of his will and cooperate with the Black Knight to eliminate her. This, apparently, had rubbed Rider the wrong way, the King of Conquerors proceeding to run Berserker over with his chariot drawn by Divine bulls, driving the Mad Servant off, thus freeing Lancer from his geiss as his Master commanded a retreat.

With that, things had settled down rather quickly. Rider and his hysterical Master had ridden off into the sky on that impossible chariot of his, leaving Saber to be fussed over by her inhumanly beautiful Master. All in all, things hadn't ended to badly considering that, for the first time since the initiation of the Heaven's Feel Ritual, all seven Servants had been gathered in one place, though it was unlikely anyone other than Caster had sensed the presence of Assassin.

In the end, the only Servants to incur any notable damage had been Saber, who remained under the curse of Gae Buidhe and thus unable to unleash Excalibur's full might, and Berserker, who learned the hard way what it meant to stand in the path of the King of Conquerors. All the other Servants had incurred minimal to no damage, and with the exception of Assassin, all of them had displayed some hints as to what their Noble Phantasm was.

Speaking from a strictly statistical point of view, Rider & Berserker were easily the biggest threats in this War. Any self-respecting Heroic Spirit would pull up short at the idea of facing off against Alexander the Great, which was likely why the King of Conquerors had been so blase about revealing his True Name. On the other hand, Berserker's greatest strength lay in his anonymity and his uncanny ability to turn everything he laid his hands on into a weapon.

Coming in at a close second was Archer, the arrogant, Gold-Clad Servant with a Divine Aura and seemingly limitless arsenal of Noble Phantasms. The only reason he didn't rank higher was because he had yet to speak, or even give hints towards, his true name, save that he considered himself the King of Kings, but his features and apparel clearly eliminated the possibility of him hailing from Ancient Egypt, meaning he couldn't be Ozymandias, otherwise known as Ramses II.

Due to their similar combat ability, Saber and Lancer were tied for third place, with the King of Knights only edging out the Knight of Fianna due to the sheer overwhelming threat than Excalibur presented. Should the two of them ever be allowed to conclude their duel, and Saber managed to come out the victor, then it was without doubt she would certainly jump to the number two spot on the list.

Last of all was Assassin, who had revealed absolutely nothing during the confrontation and indeed had most likely never intended to get involved, content to spy on the other Servants for his Master. Normally this would make him the most dangerous of all the servants, were it not common knowledge that Assassins were always chosen from the ranks of the 27 'Hassan', the very origin of the word 'Assassin'.

All in all a rather productive evening in Caster's opinion. In a single night he'd gathered more than enough information on the other Servants to begin devising suitable strategies to hunt them down, assuming they didn't start killing each other before his preparations were done. After all, only a rank amateur ran straight into the night without making preparations, a wise Hunter studied his prey, learnt it's patterns and methods, before using them against it.

That being said, even a Rookie knew better than to let an injured beast escape without landing a decisive blow. As savage and feral as Beasts could be, they retained enough wits to learn from mistakes, which is why it was always safer to risk finishing them off before they could slink off to lick their wounds. While Servants are decidedly deadlier than any Beast, when it came to being seriously injured, they were even less well equipped to defend themselves, never mind their Masters.

A fact that Caster intended to remind them of before this night was through.

* * *

 _Later..._

Kariya swore as he stumbled through the dank, darkened catacombs of the Fuyuki sewer system, hacking up lungfuls of blood as his battered, half-dead body voiced it's complaints in spades, the veins on his ruined face bulging as the crest worms writhing beneath his skin as they ravenously broke down more and more of his failing body, converting flesh and bone into pure Prana to help Berserker recover from his wounds.

'Damn that Rider...' he swore between clenched his teeth, good eye narrowing as he recalled the bone-shattering pain that had ripped through his body through the link he shared with his Servant as the King of Conquerors had run the Black Knight over with his chariot 'And damn you, Berserker...' he added, glaring at a random spot in the darkness which he instinctively knew his Servant currently occupied 'Why in the hell did you go and attack Saber for?'

Everything had been going as planned, using Zouken's Worm Familiars, he'd tracked the surges of Prana that had been aggravating the Worms and setting of Berserker to the Fuyuki Docks. He'd arrived just in time to overhear Rider's challenge to all the other Servants, and at first had intended to ignore the whole thing, as it wasn't like Berserker possessed enough of his wits to even comprehend the fact he'd been challenged.

But then Tokiomi's servant had shown up, clad as ever in that ostentatious golden armour and arrogant as all hell a fact Kariya had to admit he wasn't surprised at all, as it figured Tohsaka Tokiomi would summon as Servant as arrogant and flamboyant as himself, if not more so, the only difference being that, unlike Tokiomi, the Servant had every reason for arrogantly looking down on his fellows, as even a novice like Kariya could tell that, among Servants, Archer was in a league of his own.

Then again, the same could be said for Berserker, as Kariya highly doubted Matou Zouken would go to all the trouble of obtaining a 'suitable' relic with which to summon a heroic spirit without first ascertaining that the spirit it was linked to was top class. Combine that with the boost to all stats provided by Mad Enhancement, and Archer soon learnt that the Black Knight was not some rabid dog to be put down at his leisure, but a credible threat to be taken seriously.

'I wish I could've seen the look on Tokiomi's face when he was forced to use that command seal.' Kariya noted between gasps for air, a sickly smirk adorning his lips as he recalled the look of raw fury on Golden-Boy's face when he was forced to dismiss his weapons and depart before he could bring out the big guns, Tokiomi clearly wanting to protect his Servant's identity 'Still, just how many Noble Phantasms does that guy have?'

It wasn't an ironclad rule that Servants could only have one Noble Phantasm. Case in point, Lancer had those Twin Spears of his and Berserker's most likely had something to do with the black haze that hid his statistics even from Kariya's eyes and the Knight's ability to turn anything he touched into a Noble Phantasm to use against his opponent, whether it be a lamp post, a pebble, or even their own Noble Phantasms, as Archer had learnt the hard way during their all-too-brief exchange.

Still, as amusing as it was to see Tokiomi forced to retreat, it was from that point that things spiraled out of control, for without his Master's Primary Target to contend with Berserker had ignored Kariya's order to retreat in favor of turning his rabid attention to Saber, attacking the wounded Knight with a savagery that even Kariya had to admit he hadn't expected from his feral Servant.

That being said, while Berserker's defiance in favor of ruthlessly pursuing Saber had initially startled him, Kariya had eventually calmed himself, deciding there was little he could do but let the Black Knight go at it until he was driven off or Saber was reduced to a bloody smear on the asphalt. After all, what did it matter to him if another servant or two bit the dust before they killed Archer? In the end, all that meant was there'd be less obstacles between him and the Grail.

Such thoughts were brutally and violently driven from his mind when Rider had intervened, running Berserker over with that God-forsaken chariot of his, the Black Knight's howls of rage mirroring Kariya's howls of anguish as the inherent nature of their contract transmitted the Servant's pain unto his Master, though thankfully not the physical damage, otherwise Kariya highly doubted he'd have been in any state to get the Grail to Zouken even if he had survived.

'No.' he countered, his eye narrowing as he clenched his fist, the memory of Berserker's forced retreat replaced with the image of a small figure staring up at him from the writhing darkness, her small form covered by a sea of ravenous Crest Worms while his father's mocking laughter echoed in his ears 'Not for Zouken, for Sakura...'

If he'd known a year ago what he knew now, if he'd realized the sheer depths that Zouken was willing to sink to obtain the damned chalice that had driven their family to the point of extinction as far as their ability to produce Magical heirs was concerned, he never would have walked out that door. As much as it killed him to see Aoi marry Tokiomi, he'd have endured far worse to prevent the idiot from entrusting Sakura's to the old Monster to ensure she received 'Proper Tutelage'.

'Would he even care if he learnt just what kind of 'education' she was receiving?' he wondered bitterly, a part of him hoping that wasn't the case, for as much as he detested Tokiomi for what he'd done, he couldn't deny that Aoi wouldn't have married him simply because he was rich, and during the times he'd visited them Rin and Sakura had offered nothing but praises for the man, so it was clear the man loved his family if nothing else.

No, rather than Tohsaka Tokiomi himself, Kariya hated what the man represented, that prejudiced, elitist mindset of all so-called 'Traditional Pureblood Magi', so caught up in their dreams of the past that they failed to realize the rest of the world was leaving them in the dust. For Fuck's sake, the one time he'd visited Aoi at the Tohsaka Estate he'd almost missed an important call because not only did the house have no landline, the bounded field had played havoc with his cell-phone.

As a 'Traditional Magus', it was only natural that Tokiomi would pass on all his teaching to his eldest child, and in all honesty Kariya could see Rin surpassing her father in every way, what with her being a genius despite her tender years and her status as an Average One, something he admittedly hadn't understood all too well but had been more than willing to congratulate her for when she'd announced it during one of their get-together, as Tokiomi had apparently made a big deal of it.

That being said, Tokiomi had been blessed with TWO daughters, and just as Tradition demanded that The Heir be trained to the best of their parents' ability in the family craft, tradition also demanded that The Spare either be kept ignorant of the existence of Magecraft or be given up to a branch family, both to ensure there was no squabbling over the inheritance and, as the term implied, ensure they were ready in the event something untoward happened to The Heir.

Seeing as how the Tohsaka had never really gotten around to starting a branch family, Tokiomi must have been ripping his hair out trying to decide what to do with Sakura, for while she hadn't displayed Rin's natural brilliance, she apparently possessed an elemental affinity so rare that denying her the chance to learn Magecraft would be a crime against everything a Magus of his calibre stood for.

Enter Matou Zouken, the old monster swooping in like some grotesque mockery of a guardian angel to offer the Tohsaka head an offer he damn well should have refused if he weren't blinded by his damned pride and traditional values, an offer which never would have been offered had Kariya not stupidly believed that storming out the door would do anything to upset the old monster's schemes.

And so Tohsaka Sakura had become Matou Sakura, and Kariya didn't' doubt for a second that Zouken hadn't had the decency to wait for the ink to dry on the paperwork before throwing the poor girl into the worm pit. After all, what worth was the sanity of a 6 year old girl compared to the lifelong ambitions of a monster who had long-since abandoned any form of human decency in his twisted quest for eternal life?

Fortunately, that very desire had made the old monster more than willing to accept Kariya's proposal, when by all rights he could have simply laughed in his face, or better yet kept his word and killed him for daring to show his face after turning his back on his family. Then again, given the current state of his body, he harbored no delusions as to his expected lifespan even if he did succeed in obtaining the Grail, so in a sense the old man had kept his word.

'Just so long as he keeps it where it comes to Sakura.' he muttered, clenching his teeth at the memory of the time they passed one another in the hallway 'I don't care what happens to me...I won't rest until Sakura is free to return to her family…'

That said, neither he nor Berserker were going to be doing anything remotely strenuous until the Black Knight had fully recovered from the injuries inflicted on him by Rider. Even as he stood there he could feel the Servant siphoning Prana from his body as quickly as the Crest Worms could produce it, further agitating them and making it so even leaning against the wall took what little strength he had left.

'I'd better find somewhere to crash for the night.' he muttered, his one good eye glancing up at the distant light from an overhead manhole cover as he tried to determine if he should risk climbing out. Not that the idea of spending the night in the sewers disgusted him mind you, after all, after the horrors inflicted on him by Zouken, it was almost nice down here. No, what concerned him was that the sewers occasionally flooded due to the Mion river and he had no desire to be drowned.

"I don't care if it sets you back, if it looks like I'm going to fall, catch me." he ordered his invisible Servant, not waiting for a reply, as more likely than not he wouldn't get one beyond a growl, before hobbling over to the nearby service ladder by way of the adjoining wall. Gritting his teeth, he forced his numb left arm to rise, reaching out with dead fingers to grip the ladder while relying on his good right arm and leg to pull himself slowly upwards.

He'd gotten no more than half-way up when something stabbed him in the back, his good eye widening in surprise as the business end of a curved, wicked-looking blade erupted from his chest cavity in a spray of blood, the Crest Worms in his body screeching in agitation in response to the threat to their meal ticket even as his fingers lost their grip on the ladder.

"F-Fuck..." he swore, bitter tears forming in his eyes as he reached almost desperately from the now watery light of the overhead manhole, Sakura's pale features gazing down at him forlornly "Not here..." he vowed, clenching his teeth as he focused on his command seals "not l-like this...!"

His assailant, a Servant most likely, clearly didn't care for his protests as they savagely ripped their blade from his chest, cutting off Kariya' attempts to command Berserker long enough for them to ram their entire fist into his back, the stricken Matou unable to do anything but choke on his own blood as he felt a clawed hand tear through flesh and bone to clutch at his heart before said organ was literally ripped out of his back in a bloody shower of viscera and bone.

'I'm sorry...Sakura...' he wept, all strength leaving him as he slid bonelessly to the floor, a part of him relieved, as he could no longer feel the agony of the crest worms as they abandoned his dying flesh, his connection to Berserker fading as he no longer possessed the Prana to maintain it 'I'm sorry I couldn't save you...'

* * *

 _Play - Fate/Zero: Grief..._

Caster watched impassively as he watched the Master of Berserker's body burn, the piercing shrieks of the disgusting, worm like parasites as they tore their way out of the burning corpse only to be set ablaze themselves reminding him all-too-much of the parasites he'd faced in the Nightmare of Memphis and the catacombs beneath Yharnam.

At first he'd been content to let the corpse lie where it had fallen, that is, until he'd caught sight of the first of the parasites tearing their way out of his pale flesh, keening in agitation as they attempted to skitter off into the darkness, seeming to instinctively know better than to approach the Servant. Having faced more than his fair share of such parasites, Caster wasn't about to let them slither off to infect someone else and so hadn't hesitated to whip out a molotov to finish the job.

In a sense, the more he learned about this world, the more the Magi remind of those damned fools at Byrgenwerth. Then again, someone had consciously implanted these things into Berserker's Master, whereas Provost Willem's disciples, at least initially, had never intended to become inhuman monstrosities in their ill-planned attempts to obtain insight.

Just what kind of wish could this man have desired of the Grail? As a Great One, The Moon-Scented Hunter wouldn't have cared. Hell, the only reason he'd chosen to hunt him rather than Saber's clearly Master was that, due to the injuries incurred at the hands of Rider, more accurately at the hooves, wheels and lighting of Iskander's Noble Phantasm, Berserker was less likely to be in any shape to retaliate than if he'd targeted the King of Knights' Inhuman escort.

As Servant Caster however, he was much closer to his former human self than he'd care to admit, enough so that now that the dirty deed was done, he couldn't help but wonder just what kind of wish would drive a man to such utter desperation, as evidenced by the fleeting memories he'd absorbed from the lifeblood of the man's crushed heart, that he would willingly infest himself with such parasites in order to stand even the remotest chance of obtaining it

"I know you're there." he called out as he peered into the darkness, his voice flat and hoarse from lack of use, so long had it been since he'd last spoken that he almost didn't recognise it "You might not be able to attack me in your current state, but being in Astral Form doesn't prevent us from communicating with one another."

"Indeed, I would have words with thee." the Black Knight admitted as he stepped into view, his form blurry, see-through, his voice distant and tired, as if simply speaking in this state took whatever strength he had left "Likewise I lack the strength to take vengeance on you, though truth be told I once again have naught but myself to blame for my downfall."

At any other time Caster might have quirked a brow at that, and perhaps use it to ascertain the true Identity of the Black Knight. From what little he'd seen the man had a history with Saber, enough that he'd recognized her on sight even through the effects of Mad Enhancement, and from his reaction it was clear the King of Knights was fairly important to him, as nothing had diverted his attention from her for long until Rider literally ran him over with his chariot. "Who was he?"

"Matou Kariya, younger son of the head of Clan Matou of the Three Founding Families." Berserker replied with dutiful solemnity as he glanced down at the smoldering remains of his late Master's corpse, as if reporting the death of a comrade in arms "I do not know the specifics, but from what little I could gather, he and his father, Matou Zouken, are not on the best of terms. Indeed, I would go so far as to say they are outright hostile towards one another."

"Can't imagine why..." Caster muttered, eyeing the burning remains of a parasite as he used the tip of his Burial Blade to flip it into a nearby patch of Kariya that was still burning "I don't suppose you knew what he wanted the Grail for? Must have been something big if he was willing to go this far."

"Alas, my relationship with my Master was as hollow as it was brief." Berserker admitted, his tone carrying the barest hints of reproach "However, from what little I was able to make out during their conversations, it seemed he sought the Grail not for personal gain, but rather to present to his father in exchange for the return of Tohsaka Sakura to her her family."

"A hostage situation?" Caster muttered, sounding thoroughly unimpressed with the idea, and who could blame him? True it painted a better picture of Kariya than he'd been expecting, but nothing so dramatic that it would force the man to infest himself with parasites "That can't be it surely?"

"I solemnly wish that were the case..." Berserker muttered, his tone laced with disgust "Despite everything I experienced in my life, I never once imagined I would encounter a creature as repugnant as Matou Zouken. Even through the haze of madness, I could tell that monster in human skin was the worst kind of evil one should pray never to cross in their lifetime..."

If it had been anyone else that had said it, Caster would have merely rolled his eyes at their dramatics and gone on his way after either knocking them unconscious or killing them, depending on the situation and whether or not it violated the Secrecy Laws. That the words were coming from a Servant, a Heroic Spirit that had surpassed human limitations and been immortalized as a Legend, just shy of ascending as a Great One, gave him reason to pause.

"Show Me."

* * *

And We'll leave off there.

Sorry for the delay folks. I had originally intended for this to be ready for Halloween but, as many of you know by now, my pen drive containing all my notes finally decided to die on me. I had that damn piece o plastic for over 10 years so losing it was something of a mind-fuck I'm still in the middle of recovering from.

Sorry again for the action-free chapter, but as the Good Hunter explained, he was only there to watch, so most of the action would have been Canon anyway, and rather than insult your intelligence by literally copy-pasting entire scenes from the Novels I decided to go with the bare bones to coincide with Caster's observations.

And so the 'Second' battle of the 4th Holy Grail War comes to an end, not with a bang, but with a whimper in the dark, ended by a flash of fire. I can already imagine the hate-mail I'm likely to receive from killing off Kariya first, but in my defense I ask you, who would YOU have gone after, had you been in Caster's shoes?

True, Saber was also injured, but that only meant she couldn't whip out an Elder-God Killing Excalibeam if she wanted, there was nothing stopping her from overpowering him with her sheer strength and speed, which was second only to Lancer's.

Rider might be loud as all hell but it's as Kiritsugu can attest it's not that easy to track an opponent that can fly and doesn't show up on radar. Otherwise I can assure you Waver would have gotten a nasty surprise visit not long after the first night, as I highly doubt Kiritsugu or Maiya missed his face or Kayneth calling out his name.

Archer(Gilgamesh)'s anonymity makes him the ultimate unknown variable to Caster. He can't identify him as easily as the others because Archer gives very little clues to his identity, expecting everyone to recognise him on sight, made all the harder by his appearance and sheer multitude of Noble Phantasms.

Keep in mind, Blond hair and Red Eyes were most likely NOT a staple of Babylonian genetics, and like many of the Servants Gilgamesh bears little to no resemblance to historical landmarks in his name, such as statues or wall murals, which usually depict him with a full beard. Maybe he grew one after Enkidu died?

In any case, with this, the plot will begin to deviate even more from Fate Canon. Where it ends up? Well, that all depends on how much of an utter bastard I was when I played Bloodborne. Or rather, how many of you bastards out there thought it would be a good idea to pick on the new guy. Either way, bad luck for Zouken.


	3. Chapter 3: Kill it with Fire

I own neither the rights to Fate/Zero or anything produced by FromSoftware except my licensed copies of their games & associated DLC.

Merry Christmas one and all and a Happy upcoming New Year.

Well, finally completed the Old Hunters DLC and dear Gods was it something. Putting aside all the new outfits, spells and wonderful new toys to play with, the greatest thing the DLC brought to the table was, in my opinion, the expansion on the Lore.

Not going to spoil anything for those who've yet to play through the DLC because trust me, it's worth it to experience for yourself.

Special thanks to a certain Sunbro for helping me out with the Orphan. You are well deserving of your title good sir.

With that said, let us one again enter the Moonlit World...

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Night of Fire.**

Byakuya grimaced as he downed yet another glass of wine, doing his level best to block out the sounds of the worms below as he oversaw Sakura's 'Training' for the evening. Still, as much as the sight of the crest worms feeding disgusted him to his core, it was still a darn-side better than whatever the hell Kariya was going through out there in the infernal killing fields that Fuyuki had become as of tonight.

As the eldest son and heir to the prestigious Matou Family, one of the the Founding Families of the Fuyuki Grail Wars, Byakuya was all to familiar with the events that were transpiring outside the confines of his home, how could he not, when it was all the head of the family, Matou Zouken, could talk about?

Well, that and his utter disgust that they'd have to sit this one out, as he clearly had no faith at all in Byakuya's ability to summon a servant, let alone last to the final rounds.

Used to the old man's displeasure by this point Byakuya had been content to go along with Zouken's original plan of raising the Tohsaka brat so that she could restore the Matou lineage to it's original glory, when who should return from the dead but his little brother Kariya, demanding, of all things, that Zouken return the girl to her parents in exchange for attaining the Holy Grail in the upcoming war.

Byakuya would never understand what had possessed Kariya, who had turned his back on his heritage and been disowned as a result, to do such a thing, and quite frankly he didn't care. There was no love lost between the brothers Matou, for while both possessed Magic Circuits Zouken had deemed only Kaiya worthy of continuing the Matou lineage.

It wasn't a matter of the number of Magic Circuits, even as a child Kariya had possessed talent that far surpassed Byakuya's, whose abilities as an adult were only good enough for him to serve as a warden to keep the Tohsaka brat under control. Despite this, Byakuya had firmly believed that only he could truly preserve the future of the Matou clan, up until Kariya had left the family, forcing Byakuya into the cursed destiny carried by generations of Matou before him.

To become a Magus of the Matou house meant becoming the puppet of Matou Zouken, the ancient mastermind who controlled everything from behind the scenes. Having discovered this the hard way, Byakuya felt no sympathy for Kariya, who had foolishly returned and willingly became the foster bed for the old monster's Crest Worms in a misguided attempt at returning Sakura to her family.

Did he honestly expect Zouken to keep his word? Had living the life of a mundane plebeian scrubbed his memory of just how monstrous the thing that masqueraded as a feeble old man truly was? So far as Zouken was concerned, Kariya was simply a toy, a puppet dancing on the old monster's fingers, who had about as much chance of obtaining the Grail as he did surviving to the end of the month with that monster shackled to his soul.

He shivered, the mere memory of the black knight his brother had summoned sending a fresh wave of terror down his spine. For the umpteenth time he both thanked and damned his brother for returning. Thanked him because it simply proved that he had been in the right all along, and damned him because if he hadn't, then Byakuya wouldn't have needed to worry about the other Masters battering down their door in the middle of the night looking for him.

The one saving grace out of the whole mess was that Byakuya had managed to convince Zouken to send Shinji, his only child and heir apparent to the Matou family, oversees to study for the duration of the mess. Byakuya had intended to accompany him on the venture but Zouken had put his foot down and tasked him with ensuring that nothing went wrong with Sakura's training to become the next head of the Matou house.

It had been a slap in the face, but not a wholly unexpected one, for despite marrying a woman from a lineage known for possessing an 'Inherited' sorcery trait, Byakuya's son had displayed no signs of being able to use Magecraft. Byakuya wouldn't have minded as much if Zouken planned to have the two married at some point, but it was clear the old man didn't even consider Shinji to be worthwhile breeding stock.

And so here he was, sitting in the darkness, drowning his sorrows in an attempt to block out the terror he felt for what was going on outside while the old man's worms violated the daughter of his little brother's ex-girlfriend. A sudden surge of guilt and disgust had him reach for the wine glass sitting on the table to his side only to blink as his fingers grasped naught but air, his confusion lasting only a second before someone poured the ice water from said glass over his head.

In an instant, the haze of alcohol that had dulled his senses was dispelled by the piercing cold and he leapt to his feet, whipping round to see who would dare do such a thing only for a leather-clad hand to grab him by the throat and slam him against the stairwell wall, his cry of alarm reduced to a horrified choke as he stared at figure that had accosted him.

Clad in an old, creased leather duster, his forearms covered in what appeared to be brass guards, his features hidden behind a tattered black tricorn that gave one the impression of a wolf, one might have been forgiven for mistaking the figure before Byakuya as a highwayman.

However, all it would take is one look into the figure's eyes, the only features not hidden from view, for them to know this was no mere thief, as if a mere thief could have gotten this far into the Matou house uncontested.

Someone once said that the eyes were the windows to the soul, and that by looking into them you could ascertain a lot about a person's character. While Byakuya wasn't one to put much faith in such things, even he had to admit the saying held some merit, as even Zouken, with his deranged, monstrous obsession with eternal life, still had some semblance of humanity in his dead black eyes at times, usually when fantasizing about the Grail.

The eyes of his assailant however, were anything but human. While just as dark as Zouken's, gazing into them was more akin to staring into a vast stretch of dark sky, from which he could almost make out the glimmer of tiny, almost imperceptible stars. The only emotion Byakuya could recognise within the eyes of his assailant was that they were filled to the brim with the kind of wrath that had laid siege to entire nations.

And all of that unyielding fury was currently being directed at him.

In an instant, Byakuya lost all desire to discern the identity of his assailant. He no longer cared how this... _thing..._ had managed to circumvent the multiple layered Bounded Field that Zouken had erected to protect the manor, nor how he'd managed to get so close to the old man's workshop without setting off every trap in the manor.

No, all that mattered to Matou Byakuya was that he was currently staring Death in the face.

And it was likely all Kariya's fault, as usual.

* * *

 _Fuyuki Church..._

Kirei sighed as he opened his eyes, ignoring the slight sense of vertigo that came from separating his senses from those of his Servant with the ease of long practice, the scent and chill of the ocean air replaced with the clammy cool of the Fuyuki Church Basement in which he'd been residing ever since he'd been 'eliminated' from the war.

In the background, he could hear his father conversing his people in the local governing body, no doubt using his position as Overseer to ensure the police didn't look to closely into the events at the docks, covering up the first exchange of the 4th Holy Grail War as an act of vandalism or whatever it took to believably cover up the signs of battle between Heroic Spirits.

In other words, it was work that Risei needed no help at all with, and so Kirei respectfully toned out his father's voice and focussed inwards, gathering his thoughts so as to better analyse the events that had transpired that evening. While unexpected, all of the servants, with the exception of Caster, had put in an appearance in one way or another. As disappointing as this was, it was hardly unexpected given the very nature of the Caster Class.

While things had devolved into a clusterfuck following the arrival of Berserker and his subsequent, if short-lived, exchange with Gilgamesh & Saber, the King of Heroes' pride had kept him from revealing his True Name to his fellow Servants, while his display of power only served to further compounded his image as an unstoppable force in their minds and those of their Masters.

On the other hand, with the obvious exception of Berserker, all the other Servants in attendance had unwittingly revealed their true Identity to Kirei over the course of the evening. To make matters even sweeter, Both Saber & Berserker, the two powerhouses of the Grail War, had suffered severe, if not crippling injuries during their respective battles so lost their respective battles. Especially Saber, whose wound will affect latter matches greatly.

Combining all this with the fact that none of the other Masters were aware of Assassin's continued existence, and it would appear as if Tohsaka Tokiomi possessed a considerable advantage over his fellow Masters. However, statistics only went so far towards winning a Grail War. After all, while the standard was for the Servants to duke it out amongst themselves, there was no rule forbidding the Masters from getting their hands dirty.

As Tokiomi's spy had confirmed, Lord El-Melloi was indeed a competitor despite having lost his intended Relic, a scrap of Iskander's Mantle. While Tokiomi had garnered some amusement by the theft, it had still made things more difficult for them, as El-Melloi had been more secretive in the selection of his next Relic, preventing them from discerning the class & identity of the Man's hero until tonight. Factoring in the man's skills, this made him the second greatest threat among the Masters.

While Iskander's presence as the Rider Class was hardly a surprise, as only another Master would be daring enough to steal El-Melloi's intended relic, the fact the culprit was a mere boy, and one of the Man's own students no less, explained all too clearly why Tokiomi's spy had completely failed to locate them. After all, what better place to hide a tree than in a forest, or a student in a classroom as the case may be.

That the Einzberns had summoned King Arthur as Saber had been a surprise, though not entirely unexpected. After all, who better to assume the Class than the wielder of the Strongest Holy Sword? Still, as alarming as the revelation had been, it had been all but negated by Lancer's effectively neutralizing Excalibur with the curse of Gae Buidhe. What worried Kirei was the absence of Emiya Kiritsugu, though given what he'd knew of the man, it was unlikely he'd appear in the open willingly.

By contrast, the fact that the Matou had summoned a Berserker had been no surprise at all. Indeed, Zouken had been all to happy to report the event to Kirei's father, though naturally he refused to divulge the identity of the Master. At the time, neither Kirei nor Tokiomi had given the matter much thought, as Servants of the Berserker class tended to be weak Heroic Spirits in need of a power boost, and more often than not ended up turning on their Masters.

After the events of tonight however, they came to see the Black Knight for what it truly was: A credible threat to Tokiomi's chances at obtaining the Grail.

It was the will of the Holy Church that the Magus Tohsaka Tokiomi, a devout catholic with strong ties to their organisation despite, or perhaps because of, his position as second Owner of Fuyuki City, be the one to obtain ultimate victory in the 4th Holy Grail War. Kirei's mission, his entire reason for participating in this farce, was to aide Tokiomi from behind the scenes to ensure he achieved this goal.

Berserker, with his ability to turn anything he touched into _his_ Noble Phantasm, including the Noble Phantasms of his opponents, was a natural counter to Gilgamesh. Even setting this aside, the Black Knight possessed enough physical ability to press the admittedly wounded King of Knights, the fortitude to survive being trampled by the King of Conqueror's Chariot and, perhaps most worryingly, was immune to the _sight_ that allowed Masters to determine the overall strength  & identity of a Servant.

In short, it was clear to Kirei that in order for Tokiomi to swing the course of battle back into his favor, they would have to somehow convince the other Masters to focus their attention on defeating Berserker, a feat best accomplished by Lord El-Melloi's Lancer, as the Crimson Rose of Exorcism seemed to be the perfect counter for the Black Knight's abilities. At the same time, they needed to ensure that Saber either remained under the curse of Gae Buidhe, or that she was taken out in the crossfire.

'Emiya Kiritsugu would never allow that to happen.' Kirei deduced, his expression unchanging even as he felt a stab of some unknown feeling at the thought of the heretical Magus Killer 'Even if he is not Saber's Master, having been hired by the Einzbern to ensure their victory, he will most likely prioritise the elimination of Lancer to restore Saber's combat ability.'

In other words, assuming Tokiomi's information held true, and Emiya Kiritsugu was indeed in Fuyuki, then Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald was likely to become the first target of the Magus Killer in almost a decade. Normally Kirei couldn't have cared less what a bunch of heretical magi did to one another, but the fact remained that this was likely to be one of the few times he could accurately predict the man's movements, for once Saber was restored it was open season on all the other Masters.

And if what little he'd been able to divine of the man's character held true, Emiya would hit El-Melloi tonight.

"Master Kirei." one of the Assassin's called out, Kirei's body tensing instinctively, resisting the urge to lash out with his Black Keys as he turned to face the skull-masked female that served as a go-between himself and the other aspects of his Servant's numerous personalities "I have located something strange outside of the church" she revealed, holding up the corpse of a bat "Though it remained outside the bounded field, it was clear to see that it was placed to monitor the church."

Kirei frowned, eyeing the corpse in the Servant's hands critically. Anyone else would have dismissed the flying vermin out of hand, for while they were certainly rare they weren't uncommon even at this time of year. That being said, as the Overseer of the Grail War his father had gone to extreme lengths to ensure that nothing that could remotely be used as a familiar, and thus a means of spying on the goings on inside the church, was allowed on said grounds.

It was one of the iron-clad, unbreakable rules of the Grail War: The Fuyuki Church was Neutral Territory and no combat or Magecraft of any sort, save for the protective Bounded Field, may be carried out on the Property. Anyone foolish enough to challenge this rule could be penalized however Risei deemed fit, be it reducing the number of Command Seals they possessed or even suspending the war outright until they were dealt with.

It stood to reason that Risei could hardly penalize his own son for using the Church basement as a base of operations when he himself was abusing his authority as Overseer to facilitate the plans of the Holy Church and Tohsaka Tokiomi, who had no need to send familiars to watch the church, having provided Kirei with a direct, if impractical, means of communicating with him in the form of a gem-based communication Mystic Code.

He certainly wouldn't have attached a miniature CCD camera to the familiar. Putting aside the natural techno-phobia inherent to all 'Pureblood' Magi of distinguished houses, Tokiomi likely wasn't even aware such a high-tech piece of equipment even existed, especially given how the man had nearly had a conniption the one time Kirei suggested he invest in a fax machine instead of that ridiculously archaic scribing mystic code his mentor used to communicate with his spy in the clock tower.

As such, the fact that such a modern, state-of-the-art monitoring device was attached to something that was clearly a familiar meant two things. One, Emiya Kiritsugu was, indeed, participating in the Holy GRail War, most likely serving the Einzberns in the same capacity that Kirei himself was serving Tokiomi. Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, it meant Emiya Kiritsugu knew, or at least suspected, that Kotomine Kirei had not truly been eliminated as a Master and at the very least considered his continued presence enough of a threat to risk being penalized in order to monitor the church.

By all rights, Kirei should have alerted his father immediately. After three years of careful planning and manipulation, it wouldn't do for them to allow a wild card like Emiya Kiritsugu throw a wrench into their carefully orchestrated plans. Instead he stuffed the bat into his pocket, a sudden thrill surging through his body as if he'd been struck by lightning as he made arrangements to slip away without his father noticing, only to pause at the man's cry of alarm.

"Father?" he called out, more out of curiosity than any concern for the man's well being. After all, Assassin would have intercepted anything that had made it past the Bounded Field and despite his advanced age, Kotomine Risei was the picture of health, due in part to the lifestyle of a devout priest backed by a wealthy patron "Is something amiss?"

"Kirei..." Risei breathed, turning from the television screen he'd been using to monitor the news reports, which depicted a very familiar western-style mansion house currently burning to the ground "Contact Tokiomi. _Now_."

* * *

 _Matou Manor_

Caster eyed the destruction around him with an unreadable expression, the roar of the flames all but drowned out in the keening, alien screeches as the countless worms that occupied the Dungeon-like Basement met their fiery demise.

It had been a simple matter to circumvent the Bounded Field surrounding the Mansion. Whether this was due to arrogance or Zouken simply being preoccupied, all that mattered to Caster was that for the time being Matou Zouken's flank had been exposed, and only a fool would ignore such a tempting window of opportunity.

At first, Caster had merely wished to examine the situation in person, having likened Berserker's tale of the evils worked by the Matou head upon his descendants and ward to the horrors he'd witnessed in the Research Halls of the Healing Church and the gutted Fishing Hamlet. Indeed, from what little Caster could tell the madman's desire for the tainted Grail almost mirrored the Byrgenwerth Scholars' desire to make contact with the Great Ones.

It wasn't until he stood in the basement of the Manor, watching the veritable ocean of parasite worms violating the still, silent form of a vacant eyed child under the guidance of a clearly dispassionate drunk, that the parallels between the two were confirmed and he understood the true, unyielding fury that had led the servants of Mother Kos to curse the Byrgenwerth Scholars and the Hunters that followed in their footsteps.

Now he stood amidst the destruction, the frail form of the girl clutched in his arms, wrapped in the bloody remains of her overseer's jacket, Caster having thrown the pleading man to the worms without a second thought before setting the whole blighted mess alight.

As he watched the ash and soot carry the stench of corruption into the air, Caster couldn't help but wonder if this is what Djura and the Powder Kegs saw, the night Old Yharnam was burnt to the ground.

No, to compare the tragedy that befell the Old Hunter and his band of so-called 'Heretics' to this was laughable. While Djura may have cast aside his Hunter vows out of misguided guilt, at the very least he understood the true nature of the Plague and sought to give the victims what little mercy he could. It may have differed from the mercy offered by Gehrman and other Hunters, but at the very least he acknowledged that the so-called 'Beasts' were, at one point, human.

These... _things_ , had never been human. They did not deserve a moment's concern, save to ensure that not a single one escaped the purifying flames that were to be the funeral pyre of House Matou.

"Show yourself." Caster commanded, peering into the darkness between the roiling flames with the ease of long practice. After all, fire was a staple of any hunt, so it was a poor Hunter indeed that became so mesmerized by the flames as to be blinded to the arrival of his prey.

"Oh, already noticed have you?" an ancient voice mused over the crackling flames before breaking into a deceptively soft laugh that would have sent an icy shiver of fear down the spine of any mortal man. Indeed, the girl in Caster's arms, Sakura if he recalled, trembled in her slumber at the sound of it, curling instinctively into a ball as a formless shadow appeared from deep within the flames.

At first glance one might have mistaken the thing for a mass of worms, a veritable horde of writhing, chittering bodies that had somehow managed to avoid the purifying flames that had claimed their kin, then the light shifted almost imperceptibly, the flames seeming to part to allow an old man, thin and small of stature, to quietly hobble towards them, leaning heavily on his cane.

It went without saying that Caster wasn't fooled for a moment. One didn't need Eyes on the Inside to tell that this shriveled, aged form was nothing but a facsimile, a shell designed to hide the true horror of the monstrosity before him from seeing the light of day.

This was Matou Zouken, once known as Makiri Zolgen, the elusive puppet master behind the Matou family, and a far more deadly opponent than Berserker's late Master could ever have hoped to become.

There would be no tricking this one, no slight of hand, no last minute surprises. Matou Zouken was not the kind of monster that could be dispatched with anything less than a concentrated effort of pure will, brute force and if need be, an ocean of fire.

"I must admit I'm impressed," Zouken chuckled "I'd heard it said often that heroes can emerge from the most unexpected places...There must be some truth to it, for I certainly can't imagine a Caster as resourceful as you ever being summoned before." he chuckled darkly "Oh don't scowl like that, it wasn't that hard to figure out. You're the only Servant who didn't show up for that farce of a duel at the docks, it wasn't that hard to discern your class from that."

Caster said nothing, eyeing the deceptively harmless old monster warily as he hobbled closer, seeing nothing but twisted mockery in the doting, grandfatherly smile that adorned the man's skeletal, shriveled countenance.

"Indeed, quite resourceful." Zouken continued, his deep-set eyes, buried in the wrinkles of his face, glistening with intrigue "Servant or not, the number of people capable of slipping through my defences uninvited can be counted on one hand." he chuckled darkly, a bone-chilling sound, like the muted chirping of a hoard of insects, resonating from deep within his chest "Still, impressive or not, did you really think I'd let you scurry back to your Master after this?"

As if his words were a summons, a dull hum filled the air, countless blazing red compound eyes blazing into life as a swarm of winged horrors hovered out of the smoke. Unlike their burning brethren, these were more insect-like in appearance, their small mouths filled with countless sharp teeth, designed to rip and tear the flesh from their victims while they still lived.

Had he still been the green, inexperienced dreamer who woke into the living nightmare that was Yharnam during The Hunt, Caster might have hesitated at the sight of such malevolence. As it were, however, he simply tightened his grip on the trembling form of Sakura, as his free hand reached up to grip the brim of his cap, his eyes glinting in the shadows beneath like falling stars.

* * *

 _Fuyuki Hyatt-Penthouse._

Looking down from the top floor of the Fuyuki Hyatt, one couldn't help but marvel the unprecedented level of growth the Shinto area of the city had undergone in recent years. That being said, the only way you'd ever be allowed to the top floor of the building was if you were able to pay the frankly decadent fees required to rent one of the many penthouse rooms.

Fortunately for Lord Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald, not only was his family one of the most successful Magus Lineages of the modern age, they had also done rather well for themselves economically, enough so that he hadn't even batted an eye when he reserved the top twenty-four floors of the thirty-two story hotel building in order to convert them into a Fortress of Magecraft designed to weather any Thaumaturgical Assault.

Not structurally mind you, as much as Kayneth would have liked to remodel the whole place to his own level of standards the majority of the building's structure remained unchanged for the most part. Indeed, if Kayneth hadn't used his influence, magical and otherwise, to expressly forbid the hotel staff from allowing anyone to approach any higher than the eighth floor without his express permission they likely wouldn't have noticed a thing out of place before they were mercilessly ripped apart by the numerous traps, evil spirits and apparitions from the darkest of nightmares contained within the twenty-four layered Bounded Field powered by three independent mana-generators.

There were no defects. Every little flaw had been reviewed and removed during the design process, every possible weak-point fortified, every possibility accounted for in advance. Unfortunately, that same prestige was a dual edged blade, for while anyone else would consider the Penthouse Suite to be decadently luxurious, to an aristocrat of Kayneth's caliber it was a pigsty some ignorant fool had attempted to dress up to appear falsely aristocratic, lacking any hint of historical background or cultural heritage.

Not that he expected anything less from this backwater island nation run by technophiles. He had admittedly been looking forward to experiencing some of the local culture, but the only acceptable hotel he'd been able to find had been in Shinto, which was about as disgustingly modern as one could expect, to the point that it would be virtually indistinguishable from any other built up cityscape viewed from the penthouse window.

Then again, expecting a race of backwater savages who hadn't even possessed a constitution a century ago to understand the importance of preserving their cultural origins was probably expecting too much. They were so desperate to compete with the west they'd cast aside their ideals and completely embraced technological science and financial development in a misguided attempt at forcing their way into the ranks of so-called 'Developed Nations'.

While Kayneth could hardly fault them for the latter, it wasn't a crime to seek to improve oneself financially or politically, as a Magus he couldn't help but sneer at the Japanese's over-reliance on technology, the bane of many a field of respectable Thaumaturgy, though thankfully not any the Archibalds had partaken in. Still, normally the Archibald heir would have been above griping over minutiae, but the recent string of annoyances he had been forced to contend with had begun to wear at his considerable patience.

The first of Kayneth's troubles, like many a man before him, could be traced back to a woman, in this case his beloved fiancee and the daughter of the Clock Tower's prestigious head of the Summoning Department, Sola-Ui Sophia-Re. While Kayneth was hardly opposed to the union, indeed, his love for Sola outweighed the political clout their union would bring him, his intended's feelings on the matter were decidedly cooler, to the point she challenged him to perform a feat worthy of obtaining her hand: Compete in the 4th Fuyuki Holy Grail War and obtain the Holy Grail.

Any normal man, Magus or not, would have pulled up short at such a challenge, which had most likely been Sola's intent from the start. However, in this his beloved had erred, for even as a child Kayneth Archibald had been a prodigy, capable of solving any problem faced before him with dignified calm, whether it be a complex alchemical algorithm, a particularly passionate debate or even a duel against an upstart colleague, nobody could compete with Kayneth once he applied himself to the task at hand.

Some might take this to believe that such a thing would make Kayneth proud or arrogant, but such thoughts were so far from the truth it was ludicrous for him to even give them a passing thought. What need had he to be proud or arrogant when his identity as a prodigal magus of an established family had never been contested for anything but an undeniable fact of life, as proven by his being granted the honor of bearing the Archibald Magic Crest on his back?

Even his title, Lord El-Melloi, and his engagement to Sola-Ui had been earned entirely through his own merit, without having to rely on the research of his forefathers. In short, to Kayneth, to whom there was next-to-nothing that could not be achieved through his own power and resources, the Fourth Heaven's feel was simply an intriguing chance for him to match his wits, skills and the fruits of his family's labours whilst displaying his vast superiority over his fellow Magi.

Unfortunately, as per the rules of the Grail War, the only way for a Magus to compete for the Grail is to become a Master and summon a Heroic Spirit from one of the Seven Servant Classes. As much as it chafed his pride to have to rely on a relic from a bygone era to earn his beloved's hand, Kayneth was quick to use his influence to obtain a suitable relic to summon the perfect Servant for such a war. After all, who better to obtain victory than the King of Conquerors?

Just like all the so-called challenges he had casually surpassed before, the moment Kayneth had confirmed that his relic, a scrap of Alexander the Great's mantle, had arrived at the Clock Tower his victory had been all but set in stone. It was not that Kayneth could see into the future, it was simply an irrefutable fact of the universe that the strongest master with the strongest Servant was destined to win the war.

Mind you, if he had been able to predict what was going to happen, he might have taken more care with the handling of his precious relic. But then again, while he'd taken all the necessary precautions to ensure the identity of the relic remained secret to avoid theft from potential rivals, how on earth was he supposed to predict the lunkhead of a delivery man passing the package off to one of his students? Or that said student would run off with the damn thing?

To someone as meticulous as Kayneth, who prided himself on adhering to the natural order, such a chaotic blunder was an intolerable insult, a blasphemy against the natural order of the world, which up until now had operated to his specification. That the culprit behind the theft had been that cheeky little upstart Waver Velvet had simply been salt in the wounds.

At least the little brat had the common sense to flee the country before Kayneth could get his hands on him. Indeed, Kayneth could almost applaud the boy's ingenuity had it not inconvenienced him so. And indeed, while a costly annoyance, that was all the boy' actions had amounted to, as Kayneth had never revealed the identity of his intended servant to anyone, not even Sola, so it was a simple matter to discreetly obtain another artifact, one better aligned to the Saber class he so desired.

Such had been his intention when he'd attempted to summon Diarmuid Ua Duibhne. In hindsight, he probably should have taken more precautions, for while Diarmuid was indeed famous for his twin swords, he was even more famous for his twin spears, but with his modifications to the summoning ritual and the deadline drawing ever closer he had opted to bite the bullet and was rewarded with a Lancer Class, which while no saber was still within acceptable parameters.

Indeed, Kayneth was rather pleased with his modification to the summoning ritual. While he retained all the responsibilities and benefits that came with being a Master, such as the ability to share his senses with Lancer if he saw fit and determine the attributes of their foes, the task of actually providing Prana to maintain his servant's form came from Sola, who admittedly had not reacted all to favorably to the news she was expected to accompany him to japan.

Still, what was past was past, and here they were, half-way across the world, participating in one of the most ambitious projects ever devised by Magi, the Fourth Heaven's Feel Ritual, or as it had come to be known: The Fourth Fuyuki City Holy Grail War.

Naturally, Kayneth had intended to test the waters before venturing out into the night, but Sola had pressed him to prove himself. And so he'd chosen to set out with Lancer to make the first move in this game, only to return empty-handed, if unharmed, though you would not think it considering the scowl adorning the Archibald's brow.

And could you honestly blame him for such, given how much of a cock-up this entire farce of a ritual was turning out to be, as opposed to the grand spectacle he'd been expecting? For God's sake the Einzbern hadn't even had the testicular fortitude to send a proper Magus to act as Saber's Master, instead sending one of their accursed 'dolls', though he would freely admit, as a fellow academic, that whoever designed her had done an admirable job.

Still, admiration aside, that still didn't change the end result of the events of the evening. It was for this reason that he had secluded himself, watching the news report on the television in an attempt to calm his thoughts, only to scoff and turn the damnable thing off.

"Come, Lancer." he commanded, his features neutral as his Servant complied, the handsome Knight of Fianna kneeling obediently and respectfully in front of his Master, as well he should given his performance this evening and the lecture he was about to receive for it.

"Thank for your hard work tonight." Kayneth offered, regarding the solemn faced knight with a penetrating stare, trying to determine the effect of his words "I was able to witness the might of Diarmuid ua Duibhne's twin spears."

"I thank you for those kind words, my Master." Lancer offered, his features unchanging, displaying neither pride nor happiness as he inclined his head in acknowledgement with all the deference and humility of a knight accepting praise from his Lord.

'Or so he would like me to believe.' Kayneth countered, eyeing the kneeling Heroic Spirit with an equally unreadable expression on his face for a moment or two before deciding to press on.

"There is, however, one thing I'd like to know." he admitted, his eyes narrowing as he searched for any visible reaction to his subtle change in tone "Please tell me, Lancer, just what the Devil did you think you were doing back there?"

"I...don't understand Master." Lancer admitted, his expression as unreadable as ever, though Kayneth was pleased to note a slight hesitancy, just a hint of uncertainty in the Knight's tone "What, precisely, do you mean by that?"

"It is quite simple, Lancer." Kayneth pressed on, leaning back in his chair, grimacing slightly at the sound of leather squeaking beneath him "You swore to to do everything in your power as my Servant to aide me in the task of obtaining victory, and with it, the Holy Grail, correct?" he scowled at Lancer's confirmation "Then would you care to explain why you saw fit to ignore my orders to slay Saber?"

"...Forgive me, my Lord, but my honor as a Knight would not allow it." Lancer admitted, his head lowered with a serious expression, fully accepting his Master's chastisement even as he defended himself "Had Berserker not interfered I would have gladly complied with your order, but as it stood I could not bring myself to attack her in that state..."

"Do you take me for a fool, Lancer?" Kayneth interrupted, his tone clipped as he regarded the solemn faced Knight of Fianna coldly, "Have you forgotten that I witnessed the entirety of the exchange at the docks? Do you think I did not notice the look on your face when you clashed with Saber?"

Only a blind man could have missed the look of elation that had formed on the face of the two Knights as they faced one another in mortal combat. While Saber was equally at fault in Kayneth's eyes, she was not his servant and thus not his responsibility. Lancer, on the other hand, had no excuse and would be held accountable for his actions, intentional or not.

"Tell me, Lancer, do you feel this Grail War is nothing more than a game?" he demanded, regarding the silent knight kneeling before him coldly, "Did you get so caught up in your duel with Saber that you forgot that, in order to bring me victory, you must first bring me her head?"

"...Forgive me. Master." Lancer intoned, bowing his head even deeper, his tone as serious as a heart-attack, handsome features locked into a determined grimmace "I swear to you upon my honor as a knight: I will bring you Saber's head. Please believe in me, no matter what."

"There's no need to swear to me again!" Kayneth snapped, slapping his palm on the armrest of his chair for emphasis as he glared at the servant "You have already sworn to bring victory and the Holy Grail unto me. Therefore it is a forgone conclusion that you will destroy the six other Servants. Unless..." his eyes narrowed "Lancer, do you mean to tell me this oath extends to Saber alone?" at Lancer's silence his temper flared "That is nowhere near the original agreement! What's wrong with you?!"

"I might ask the same thing of you, Kayneth." a third voice opined crisply, Kayneth's mouth snapping shut with an audible click as he turned to face the love of his life as she sashayed into the room from her bedroom, her fiery red hair a stark contrast to the critical cold stare emanating from her eyes "Lancer has performed admirably, the only one to have erred is you yourself."

"And just what are you implying by that, Sola?" Kayneth demanded, reigning in his temper at her criticism only by virtue of it being hers. Indeed, not only was Sola-Ui Nuada-Re Sophia-Ri the love of Kayneth's life, she was was one of the few people he permitted to criticize his methods. He didn't even take pleasure in proving her wrong, going out of his way to explain the logic behind his actions in a way that did not insult her considerable intelligence.

Sadly as much as he loved her, the very fact Sola knew he'd never treat her like any of his contemporaries meant she was able to take full advantage of his feelings to lambaste him for every perceived flaw she could find, whether it be in his tactics, his responses, or even something as mundane as hypnotizing the entire Hotel Staff.

"I'm saying Lancer had the right idea when he chose to initially side with Saber against Berserker." Sola elaborated, earning a grimace from Kayneth, who glared pointedly at the silent form of his Servant "Indeed, between Lancer's Gáe Dearg and Saber's might, it would have been a perfect chance to rid ourselves of a troublesome enemy."

"That may certainly be true..." Kayneth admitted, his tone clipped as he glared pointedly at his servant "Indeed, Lancer's Spears give him the advantage over that mindless beast." he waved a hand dismissively "However, unlike you, Sola, I was able to see first-hand just how powerful Saber could be through my connection with Lancer." he shuddered as he recalled the sheer amount of prana that had been generated when she'd rushed his Servant "To say she completely outmatches Lancer statistically would be an understatement, and so I deemed it prudent to finish her off while she was wounded, rather than face Berserker at full power."

"Kayneth, are you telling me you lack any faith at all in the capabilities of your own Servant?" Sola demanded, her tone cold as she noticed Lancer's eye twitch almost imperceptibly at her words "In that case, if you deemed Saber such a threat, why did you allow her Master to escape?" she smiled cockily at Kayneth's grimace "Not once did you think to take advantage of the Einzbern homunculus during the fight. Any other Master would've seized the opportunity to capture her while Lancer occupied Saber's attention, but all you did was hide in the corner."

Kayneth said nothing, smothering his rising fury with a level of control that a saint would deem praiseworthy. Had it been anyone other than his beloved Sola, he would not have rested until he had avenged his humiliation on them tenfold, even if doing so cost him the prestigious title of Lord El-Melloi. He therefore chose to believe it was her knowledge of this that cause his beloved's feature's to soften as she took in his expression.

"Kayneth, you know better than anyone that the other Masters cannot compare to your genius." She admitted freely, her tone losing most of it's earlier frost, becoming almost placating "However while your genius as a Magi is obvious, your skills as a warrior are lacking." she quirked a brow to silence his protests "I was led to believe the reason I was given responsibility for providing Lancer with prana was so you could have full access to your reserves, was that not the case?"

"The war has only just begun, Sola." Kayneth attempted to protest, his voice firm despite the mental strain he was under to both reign in his temper and find the right words to placate his beloved "It is better for us to move cautiously until the other Master's show their hand."

"If that is the case, why do you demand results so hastily from Lancer?" Sola demanded, the softness of her tone belying the subtle mockery that Kayneth did not miss for a second, so used to delivering it himself to those he would thuroughly humiliate "I think it would be wise if you reflected on your own failures before you think to chastise Lancer for any perceived-!"

"Milady Sola, please stop here." Lancer cut in, surprising the two Magi at his audacity, the Knight of Fianna staring pointedly at his Master's betrothed, his expression unreadable save for the disapproval in his eyes "I have held my tongue out of respect for your pending union, but betrothed or not if you continue to insult my Master then as his sworn Knight I will be forced to respond."

Almost immediately the fire went out of Sola's eyes, Kayneth's teeth clenching as he watched his fiery-bride to be go from carrying herself with the dignity befitting a woman of her bloodline to a simpering girl hurrying to correct herself. Were such a thing a natural part of her personality he might have accepted it for what it was, but the fact was he knew that if anyone else had spoken to Sola in such a fashion, even her own father, she'd have taken their head off, literally and figuratively, before digging into him even harder than before.

Following his Fiancee's longing gaze to his servant's admittedly handsome features, Kayneth felt his anger grow within him like a cancer as his eyes locked onto the beauty=mark beneath the Servant's eye, the 'gift' bestowed upon him by some love-struck girl long-since dead that in death had manifested as a useless passive ability for the Servant of the Lance that only served to give others a clue towards his identity.

Had it been anyone other than Sola Kayneth wouldn't have given the matter a second thought. After all, while she wasn't the heir to her family's legacy, as a descendant of the renowned Sophia-Ri clan Sola was more than capable of shrugging off any kind of charm based sorcery or glamour. Hell, according to tales he'd garnered from her elder brother she was rather vindictive in her resistance if the state of her previous suitors were any indication, so the idea of her allowing herself to be affected by the love-spot when the Einzbern Homunculus had shrugged it off was laughable.

Before Kayneth could dismiss his Servant, however, a sudden clamor filled the air, Sola and Lancer tensing in alarm even as the Lord El-Melloi rose from his chair to answer the nearby phone, his expression one of calm reserve despite the wailing of the alarm.

"Yes, what is it?" he demanded, his irritation giving away to intrigue as the manager relayed the situation to him, Sola and Lancer looking on with anticipation as a cold, calculating smile slowly formed on the Archibald's face as he hung up "A fire appears to have broken out on the lower floors." He informed them at last "The hotel staff are already evacuating everyone."

"An attack?" Sola exclaimed, her eyes widening in disbelief even as Lancer rose to his feet, his eyes like a hawk and his form like a cat's, ready to fight or flee at a moment's notice "On tonight of all nights?"

"Saber's Master will want to dispel the curse of Gae Buidhe as soon as possible." Kayneth opined, his expression one of absolute confidence as he stood with his hands clasped behind his back, as if he were expecting a lecture to take place rather than a fight to the death "Lancer, head down and receive her." he commanded with a wave of his hand "Do NOT simply drive her off like you did last time."

"As you command, My Lord." Diarmuid acknowledged with a bow, the Knight of Fianna's Twin Spears materializing in his hands as he prepared to engage his honorable opponent for the second time that night "I shall cut off their escape and drive them towards you."

"See that you do." Kayneth dismissed, smirking to himself as Lancer reverted to astral form, leaving him and Sola alone for a few precious moments "Let them have them enjoy the experience of my Magical Atelier."

Sola said nothing, the redhead's features inscrutable as she listened to Kayneth preen. For all she disliked the man, for all she disapproved of her arranged marriage to her father's disciple, she couldn't deny that, above all else, Kayneth Archibald El Melloi was a prodigal genius when it came to Magecraft.

'It doesn't make having to listen to him laugh any more bearable though…' she opined, ignoring her betrothed, who had started cackling like a stereotypical villain, instead turning her thoughts to Lancer, offering a silent prayer for the Knight's safety only to blink as an explosion rocked the building.

* * *

And I'll leave off there for now.

Not much of an update I'm sure, hell the last section was essentially just padding, but I figured it would work to fill in the exact timeline of the events of the first night.

Yes, all of this literally happens within hours of one another. Make of that what you will.

Here's how things break down thus far.

Caster - Alive & Kicking Ass - Master: unnamed boy (Shirou?)-Alive.

Lancer - Rushing back to his Master - Master: Kayneth - Currently in the middle of being Kiritsugu'd.

Saber - Currently wishing being a servant didn't prevent her from upchucking - Master: Kiritsugu - Currently Blowing up a hotel.

Berserker - Dead - Master: Kariya - Dead.

Archer - Drinking Tokiomi's finest wine to spite him - Master: Tokiomi - weeping as his wine collection is drained like shot glasses.

Rider - Riding around as he pleases - Master: Waver - Pissing himself.

Assassin: Spying - Master: Kirei tracking the elusive Emiya Kiritsugu.

I also gave a few hints as to some of Caster's stats/NP's in this chapter, see if you can guess them.

Slainte!


End file.
